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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24008398">it’s not love we don’t wish to fall into (but that fear)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bYeFeliciaah/pseuds/bYeFeliciaah'>bYeFeliciaah</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>American Horror Story</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(sort of), Angst, Eventual Smut, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Las Vegas Wedding, Mutual Pining</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:55:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>35,922</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24008398</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bYeFeliciaah/pseuds/bYeFeliciaah</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>‘It was better to ignore the marriage and focus on ending the marriage. That way she didn’t have to look into the reasons of why. Why she got married drunk, why it was to Misty Day. It was easier that way.’</p><p>Misty and Cordelia get married whilst drunk in Vegas, and deal with the implications of promising themselves to each other for life.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Misty Day/Cordelia Foxx | Cordelia Goode</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>66</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>142</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The One In Vegas</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is my first ahs fic. I’m not expecting a big reception from this but I’m a whore for all Rauslon ships and this one is close to my heart so I thought I’d share it! </p><p>This is inspired by Friends, when Ross and Rachel get married in Vegas and don’t realise for a good while. The title is inspired by ‘Variations On The Word Love’ by Margaret Atwood, so you might wanna check that out &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cordelia woke to the sun streaming through silk curtains, a feeling of bliss passing over her at the warmth permeating through her skin and into her bloodstream. For a second she forgot where she was, but a resounding memory of casino slots and alcohol reminded her: <em>Vegas</em>.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Opening her eyes to the ceiling of her hotel room, detailed engravings etched into the plaster, Cordelia placed a palm against her throbbing head with a groan. The events of the night before a blur from the moment Madison had forced a series of shots down her throat. It was disconcerting, forgetting so easily. She hoped everyone had gotten back to their rooms in one piece.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Letting her eyes fall shut in the hopes of a few more minutes of comfort, Cordelia rolled to her side, startling with a shout when she knocked into a warm body and recoiling to the other side of the bed. Reopening her eyes to see a mess of curls spread across the pillow, a river; meanders flowing across the silk, she took a deep breath to calm the erratic race of her heart.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">After a beat, cerulean eyes opened carefully, abewildered Misty, blonde locks messy about her head, certainly <em>too</em> much</span> <span class="s1">skin on show for two </span> <em> <span class="s2">very</span> </em> <span class="s1"> platonic friends. Cordelia sat dumbstruck. Looking from her wide eyes, bed head, prominent collar bones that otherwise were covered by long, elegant dresses and scarves, to the shape of her body beneath a rumpled sheet.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why are we in bed together?” She managed to get out, voice scratching at her throat - croaky from dehydration and sleep.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t know,” Misty said in her smooth, southern drawl, rougher in the early hours. Shaking her head, she moved to a sitting position, sheet dropping to reveal only a white, lace bra and a large expanse of alabaster skin.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They both looked down at the same moment, and Cordelia’s thoughts raced with several scenarios that could’ve gotten them into this situation, one in particular, trying to dig through her memories for any recollection. Misty’s cheeks had turned a deep pink, and she quickly began reassuring Cordelia at her astonished stare. “Oh, don’t worry, I strip sometimes in my sleep.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That didn’t settle any of her worries. Nor the thrum of her elevated pulse.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It used to get awful hot in my shack, and I was all alone so it didn’t matter if I woke up naked,” She shrugged, pulling the sheet back up her body, avoiding Cordelia’s eyes. “Queenie would complain when she woke up and saw a tit pokin’ out of my duvet.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">Misty’s abrupt, awkward laughter seemed extremely unfitting, and settled in the air like a bad smell.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Realising how long she’d sat silent for, staring at Misty, Cordelia rubbed at her temples, thinking of a way to alleviate the situation. She was fully clothed herself after all. “Right. Right, okay.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Swivelling around to place her feet on the floor, inhaling sharply at the cold, Cordelia routed around the mess she’d managed to create on the bedside table, searching for some painkillers. Taking them dry, she checked her phone for the time and saw a message from Zoe to meet for breakfast within the hour. “That makes sense. We were really drunk, we probably just passed out here,” She said, more so to reassure herself.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah,” Misty answered back a little dazedly, and Cordelia could hear her shuffling about, resisting the urge to turn around and watch her. “I don’t remember most the night.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Neither.” They’d just gotten a little too drunk and ended up crashing in the same room. Cordelia’s motherly nature probably wouldn’t allow Misty to wander off on her own, that’s what she repeated for comfort. Finally turning, she saw Misty had stood and wrapped the sheet around her, looking out of place, standing awkwardly beside the bed. Cordelia found it endearing.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do ya always feel this awful after drinkin’ that much?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Unfortunately, yes.” Offering some pills to Misty, who eyed them warily until Cordelia assured they’d ease her headache, she watched the witch swallow them with some difficulty, before picking up her discarded clothing. It looked entirely too scandalous for Cordelia to handle, who hadn’t had anybody’s discarded clothing on her floor in a long while. Clearing her throat, she turned away again, “Let’s just, uh...get ready. The girls are meeting us for breakfast.” </span>
</p><p class="p2">After half an hour of the pair skirting around each other with awkward smiles as they got ready, along with clearing up some of the mess left from the night before (empty bottles mostly) they were heading downstairs silently. </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Everybody was sat at the table when they arrived, the conversation stopping as they walked in with a rumble of good mornings. Misty began pouring herself some coffee, glancing to Cordelia to see if she’d like some. The background noise of the breakfast hall was comforting, bustling with tourists and people that varied between all types of hungover, yet Cordelia couldn’t shake off the feeling that something wasn’t quite right. That there was something she was missing.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Once they’d settled, mugs in hand, the Supreme noticed the continued silence from the group, and looked up to see everybody’s eyes on them.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What, do I have something on my face?” Cordelia asked, thumbing at her cheek. “Did I forget to put on my pants?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Misty was the only one who laughed beside her, stopping when she noticed she was alone. Time seemed to stretch as Cordelia waited with bated breath, wondering what on Earth she’d done to warrant this early morning greeting.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Are we gonna talk about what you guys did last night, or?” Queenie spoke up, incredulous, as if it’s what they should’ve opened the conversation with. She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to do that, considering she had no idea what was being spoken of.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cordelia turned to the witch beside her, raised eyebrows, receiving the same questioning look that was likely on her own face.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Shaking her head with a scoff, feeling a little flustered, Cordelia snorted. “What do you mean, last night? Uh...nothing, nothing happened last night.” Thoughts instantly travelling to the white lace of Misty’s bra, Cordelia shifted her hair from her face, the nerves taking ahold of her. If something </span> <span class="s2">did</span> <span class="s1"> happen between them, they wouldn’t know about </span> <em> <span class="s2">that, </span></em><span class="s1">surely.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Misty invited us all to watch,” Madison added, and Cordelia heard Misty’s quiet sound of shock.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">They couldn’t have. She </span> <em> <span class="s2">wouldn’t</span> </em> <span class="s1">. It’s not like she hadn’t thought about it, but that was something she’d buried far deep into her mind, never to be thought about unless she was feeling particularly...weak. They were friends, close friends, and Cordelia was her Supreme. And they certainly wouldn’t have invited anybody to watch, even if there was a slip in her ‘Supremely’ resolve.</span></p><p class="p2">“Cordelia, we weren’t going to miss our friends getting married!” Zoe exclaimed, in what should’ve brought clarity but only more confusion.</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Cordelia gasped at the idea of missing the wedding of one of her girls, leaning forwards suddenly, “Aw, who got married?” The thought didn’t really cross her that nobody here would’ve married one another. Nor did it cross her that they were talking about herself, because that’d be </span> <em> <span class="s2">ridiculous</span> </em> <span class="s1">. She’d already had one failed marriage, she wouldn’t just get married in Vegas on a whim.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The witches all looked at one another with incredulity, whilst Cordelia and Misty waited expectantly for the answer.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You two did?” Silence, again. Cordelia could hear the scrape of chairs against the carpeted floor, and the sound of metal hitting china.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What?” She scoffed, immediately shaking her head.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, we didn’t get married,” Misty protested beside her, voice a tad shrill as she laughed disbelievingly.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“That’s </span> <span class="s2"> <em>ridiculous</em></span><span class="s1">,” Cordelia asserted, looking to Misty for help with a desperate sort of confusion.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“We didn’t-“ </span> <span class="s2"> <em>oh my god, we got married</em></span><span class="s1">. They both gasped, frozen, eyes wide. Cordelia felt a panic building in her chest as the events of the night before started flickering through her mind like a slideshow. A murky slideshow with some sort of cheap filter over it. The drinks, the music, the dim hallways as they stumbled towards Cordelia’s room laughing. The scratchy feel of the carpet against her legs as they sat opposite one another, cards spread out between them, more laughter. More drinks. Saying </span> <span class="s2"><em>I do</em>.</span></p><p class="p2">The swamp witch wasn’t doing any better processing the revelation, teeth tugging on her lip as her eyes darted about the room as if trying to look for answers in the walls or the cutlery.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wait, wait, wait, wait...I remember bein’ in a chapel,” Misty dropped her head in her hands, fingers getting caught in the curls, sounding breathless. “They wouldn’t let us get married when we were that drunk.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Most people who get married in Vegas are drunk,” Zoe said around her croissant.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I mean, I’m drunk right now,” Madison confessed, stealing everyone’s attention, “What? I can’t have a mimosa with breakfast? I’m on vacation!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’re you guys gonna do?” Zoe asked, choosing to ignore the other witch.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">What </span> <em> <span class="s2">were</span> </em> <span class="s1"> they going to do? Cordelia didn’t think she had a simple answer. How on Earth she’d gotten herself in such a situation, as the Supreme, was beyond her. One minute they were drinking overpriced alcohol in her room and playing poker, and the next they were in a chapel saying</span> <span class="s2"> I do</span> <span class="s1">? It was reckless and foolish, so unlike how she tried to live her life.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We could get a divorce,” Misty shrugged, leg bouncing beneath the table as she picked apart a napkin.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Cordelia already has a divorce lawyer. It’ll cost you no money at all, a buy one get one free deal,” Madison quipped, sark dripping through each word.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Me and Hank never got divorced. He died before we could,” She reminded with a sigh, glaring at Madison disapprovingly.</span>
</p><p class="p2">“Whatever.”</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Considering options in her head, Cordelia thought through the consequences of this whole thing with a frown. Divorces weren’t easy, and neither were they cheap. It was a whole load of mess she didn’t need to delve into. Suddenly, an idea struck her.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We don’t need a divorce,” She said, and Misty’s attention shot right to her, napkin forgotten, leg stilling as if she’d just proposed all over again. “We can get an annulment.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“</span> <em> <span class="s2">Oh</span> </em> <span class="s1">, right, an annulment,” Misty nodded, teeth tugging on her bottom lip again as the girls hummed in agreement. “What’s an annulment?”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Madison scoffed beside her, stirring her mimosa with her pinky, “You don’t know what an annulment is? You really were sheltered in that shack of yours.” Cordelia frowned disapprovingly, raising her eyebrows in a challenge for her to continue. “What, protective over your little wifey?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“An annulment,” She began in a clear dismissal, “Is where a marriage is deemed invalid from the beginning. Like it never happened.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh okay, let’s do that then,” Misty shrugged with a smile, as if it were the simplest of things to do with your friend. Get married in Vegas and then get that marriage annulled. </span>
</p><p class="p2">“I’m sure you’ll qualify. Just say Misty is mentally retarded. It won’t be hard for them to believe.”</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Madison.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Lighten up, Cordy. I think </span> <em> <span class="s2">you</span> </em> <span class="s1"> need a mimosa.”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They finished breakfast with the girls chatting between themselves whilst the newly weds sat in a tense silence. Cordelia didn’t have much of an appetite after all the drink she’d had the night before, but knew it’d relieve her hangover, so busied herself with focusing on the food before her.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">She didn’t want this to be how they were now, after so much time spent together in the greenhouse, spent chatting freely, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at the witch in that moment, all bright eyed and soft smiles. The only time they interacted from that point on was a palm placed on Misty’s leg to stop her shaking, and brief eye contact before they both looked away with pink tinted cheeks. </span> <span class="s2"><em>Pathetic</em>, <em>really</em>.</span> <span class="s1"> She was sure that was Fiona’s voice in the back of her head, critiquing her every interaction with Misty - proof that the woman could never truly be gone.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“If you don’t qualify for that annulment can you get a double barrel name?” Madison said as they were clearing up the table. Before Cordelia could protest, she was chuckling to herself loudly, “Goode Day to you. Did you have a Goode Day?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p>
<hr/><p class="p1">
  <strong><br/>
<span class="s3">15 hours ago</span> </strong>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cordelia could feel a headache coming on. After hours spent under the bright lights of a conference room, the witch was feeling particularly sensitive to the Las Vegas sun and noise of the streets, worsening the ache behind her eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Planning on going back to the hotel and taking a hot bath with a glass of wine, Cordelia said goodbye to the girls with a promise to meet for breakfast. The plane was leaving the next evening, which gave them time to look around in the morning. Before she could get to the elevator, Madison was shouting after her.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Cordy, don’t tell me you’re going back to your room and sleeping?” With neither a confirmation nor a contradiction, the young witch scoffed. “Come on, we’re in Vegas. We’re all going out. Even you, Swampy.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cordelia glanced at Misty, who seemed to be studying the elaborate details of the lobby’s reflective walls rather than paying attention to the conversation. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? We have a plane to catch tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nothing but a good breakfast to get rid of a hangover.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She must’ve gone soft, or perhaps she always was, because she already felt herself being convinced by all their hopeful eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fine,” She relented, the girls (sans Misty, who was still looking about in awe despite seeing the hotel when they’d arrived that morning) cheering at her permission. “But let me freshen up first.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cordelia’s headache seemed to dull down after a quick shower. By the time she’d reapplied some light makeup and touched up her hair, Madison was banging on the door. It’d seemed the girls had planned this all along, because whereas Cordelia was wearing something extra she’d brought along that could still be classed as relatively casual (a plain, black dress) they were wearing what one would call “club wear”, apart from Misty, again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The bustle of Vegas was a great contrast from New Orleans. Of course that’s something she’d expected, but it was different breathing it in and living it. Cordelia had never been a fan of large crowds, as a quiet person herself, only really finding her confidence as the Supreme, so she felt a little unnerved.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s awful busy, isn’t it?” Misty sidled up beside her, the scent of floral and earth following, as if she’d brought Louisiana with her. Her eyes were holding this youthful wonder as she watched people pass by, unique styles and a vibrancy about them you didn’t often find in the south.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, it’s a little...overwhelming,” Cordelia laughed softly, looking up at Misty through her lashes, feeling a little bashful. She didn’t quite know why. Perhaps it was her nerves with going out with the girls. Bars weren’t a particularly happy place for her, after the attack. Or maybe it was the way Misty’s hair had a little more volume, her lashes painted black and lips a light shade of red that matched her dress. Cordelia blamed it on the former, disregarding the latter as soon as the thought came into her head.</span>
</p><p class="p2"><span class="s1">“Are you sure ya wanna go out? We can go back to the hotel if ya want?” Misty offered graciously, causing a flutter in Cordelia’s chest. </span> <em> <span class="s2">How foolish, </span></em><span class="s1">if only Fiona could see her.</span></p><p class="p2"><span class="s1">“I’m okay, but thank you, Misty,” Placing a palm against her arm, she furrowed her brows at the nervous way the Cajun’s eyes fluttered about the sidewalk. “Are you sure </span> <em> <span class="s2">you</span> </em> <span class="s1"> want to go out?”</span></p><p class="p2">“I don’t know. It could be fun,” She shrugged, and it was agreed they’d make the most of the time they were given away from the academy.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The sun was just about setting, and beside her Misty was washed in a golden glow, looking ethereal, radiant. Cordelia could feel her breath catch in her throat. It seemed she attracted the sun, the wind, the nature about them, effortlessly. Their hands brushed, and the other witch looked down at her sheepishly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">(She thought of a path where she wouldn’t be able to see this image, where there was only darkness).</span>
</p><p class="p2"><span class="s1">“You look real pretty today, Miss Cordelia.” Misty had long grown out of calling Cordelia ‘Miss’ with constant reminders that they were </span> <span class="s2"><em>equal</em>, </span> <span class="s1">colleagues, but sometimes she slipped and said it without even really noticing. Today she noticed and ducked her head. “Sorry, </span> <em> <span class="s2">Cordelia</span></em><span class="s1">.”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Before she could respond with a shy thanks or a compliment of her own, Madison was yelling after them. “Come on, lovebirds. You’re holding us up back there.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The place Madison led them to happened to be a hotel, bar and casino not far from where they were staying the night. Misty had the same wonder about her as they walked inside, particularly focused on the luminescent lighting that lined the walls behind the bar. That’s where they headed first, ordering their respective drinks.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The vibrancy inside had a different tone to the streets; where there seemed to be a carefree flow of life and laughter. Here, it was more reserved. Fancier, in a way. The people, the clothes, the modern architecture, even the dance floor, which seemed to be more of a socialising space. It was tranquil almost. The life seemed to be centralised to the bar, where the people were a little rowdier.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They found a booth close to the dance floor, but the girls left not long after sitting down, leaving Cordelia sipping at her wine, Misty at her beer. They sat close, close enough for Cordelia to feel the warmth from Misty’s leg against her own. “Why don’t you go with them?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"><span class="s1">“Why don’t </span> <em> <span class="s2">you</span> </em> <span class="s1"> go with ‘em?” Misty retorted, raising her eyebrows as she took a swig. There was something attractive about the nonchalant way she drank from the bottle, a contrast to the graceful way she moved about. Cordelia found herself looking at the rim of her glass to avoid staring.</span></p><p class="p2">“Touché,” She chuckled lightly over a sip of her own drink, meeting Misty’s eyes as she did.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was something intense about it, intimate almost. Cordelia chastised herself for indulging in moments like these, moments that suggested they could be more. No matter how many times she’d tried to convince herself Misty took it as friendship, she wasn’t staring at the other girls over her wine glass; batting her eyelashes like some schoolgirl, and the Cajun must’ve noticed that.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So, are ya enjoyin’ it?” Misty said after a few beats of prolonged eye contact. The vibration of the music could be felt through the soles of her shoes, it seemed to match her quickened pulse.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We’ve only just got here.” She smiled behind her wine, watching the other woman as she moved about to get comfortable in her seat.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So? Are ya?” Moving a little closer and leaning forwards, Misty whispered almost conspiratorially, “‘Cause I am.” Pulling back abruptly with a grin, she looked out over the crowd, a hint of longing.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, Misty. I am,” She said, if only to humour the witch.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Cool.” She seemed genuinely pleased with the answer, before abruptly standing and grabbing Cordelia’s free hand with a tug. “I wanna explore. Come on.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We’ll lose our seats,” She protested weakly, already being dragged away from the table by an enthusiastic Misty.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Who cares? We’ll find more.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She allowed herself to be dragged around by the witch like some sort of pet, looking at art on the walls and talking to random strangers. They met up with the girls after walking around a little, Misty stopping to point things out. “Hey, why don’t we try gamblin’? I’ve always wondered what that’s like.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Are you sure you want to risk losing money?” Cordelia warned, ever the cautious one. It was in her nature to be cautious, she supposed. </span>
</p><p class="p2">“Come on, Delia,” Misty pleaded, echoed by the others as they all surrounded her with puppy-eyes. It was a losing battle before it began.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They traipsed around the casino, trying out the machines with loose coins. Cordelia was particularly good at one of them, earning a profit of ten dollars. She’d have been happy to stay there, stacking up a nice sum of money but the girls had other ideas. Before long they were settled around a poker table, Madison bluffing about how she was going back to New Orleans having pocketed all their money. But, unfortunately for her, Misty was surprisingly good at poker for having never gambled, and she sat grinning with each win. Cordelia had lost a significant amount before she pulled out, followed by Zoe and Queenie. </span>
</p><p class="p2">It seemed Madison’s pride outweighed the fact she was repeatedly losing, and she was sure the pair would’ve continued playing the rest of the night if she hadn’t threatened to leave.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You can have your money back if ya want,” Misty said as they walked back towards the bar, hand brushing against Cordelia’s for a solid second before the contact was gone. It almost seemed deliberate.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s not how it works,” Queenie reminded, tone bored as she trailed behind.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s fun winnin’ but I feel bad stealin’”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The innocence of it had her pushing away the want to take Misty’s face in her hands and reassure her the money was well earned. And to think Cordelia was sure she couldn’t get anymore captivating.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s not stealing if you win it,” Zoe rolled her eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Keep the money, but the next round’s on you.” Madison made her way to the bar, beckoning the bartender with a single flick of her wrist.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p>
<hr/><p class="p1">
  <strong> <span class="s3"><br/>
Today</span> </strong>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey.” The voice came from the doorway, hesitant but warm and kind nevertheless; the way it’d always been with her.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hi.” Cordelia glanced over her shoulder to see Misty walking down the few hotel steps that went up to the entrance, brushing her dress to the side in one elegant swoop to avoid getting it caught beneath her feet. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She took a seat beside her, knees rising to her chest and arms curling around them. If Cordelia were to knock her slightly she’d imagine she’d fall to the side in a fetal position, unbalanced. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So...we’re married?” Misty was pulling at a thread from her dress, rolling it between her fingers like a cigarette, attention solely on the fabric. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It seems that we are.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cordelia watched as a woman walked passed with a young girl clutching her hand, face pulled into a frown as the presumed mother spoke over the phone in a stern voice, sunglasses perched on her head, a tight dress hugging her figure. The clack of her heels reminded her of Fiona, but it’d be a rare sight to see the old Supreme holding her daughters hand. If only she could see her now. Married to the swamp witch. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Damn, Delia. We must’ve been real drunk,” She said with a nervous chuckle, running a hand across her face. Suddenly she felt guilty. Like she’d dragged Misty into this mess. That she’d burdened her with a marriage to the Supreme. That she’d put a wedge between them by drawing them closer by law. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m sorry, Misty,” She almost choked on the words, fingers itching to find purchase on the girls shoulder as if it’d bring comfort, when she knew it was only to comfort herself. Instead, she clasped her hands together, twisting them like you would a towel to get the water out. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A warm hand placed over her own, red with the pressure she was exerting, had her looking up into Misty’s soft eyes, brimming with concern. “Don’t apologise. It takes two to get married.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As Cordelia began to shake her head, Misty gripped her hands harder. “We’ll figure it out,” She bumped their shoulders together with a reassuring smile, face bright with life and promise. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It gave Cordelia no choice but to believe her. “You’re right.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I always am,” With a toothy grin, she began twirling the ring on Cordelia’s finger. Her grandmother’s ring. Bringing the hand into her own lap, a gesture that seemed entirely too romantic. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You sure are humble.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They sat for a while, a light breeze dusting Cordelia’s cheeks like the kiss of an angel, a comfortable silence settling between them. Misty still had her hand, drawing patterns over the creases and curves absentmindedly. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She found herself thinking back to the night before, the jumble of memories like puzzle pieces she hadn’t quite been able to put together. A disjointed picture with cracks in the frame. The only thing that stood out in most of her memories was Misty. Misty dancing, smiling, sipping on her drink and twirling her straw, holding cards in the air and, at one point, kissing her cheek. A delicate touch, like she was a little bird the Cajun was trying to resurrect, featherlight and gentle. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So, do I get any...privileges,” She raised her eyebrows, speaking in a hush, “As your wife?”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Misty Day,” Cordelia gasped, hitting her on the arm with a </span> <em><span class="s2">tut tut </span></em> <span class="s1">and a shake of the head. Still, she couldn’t help the warming of her cheeks, and hoped Misty couldn’t tell. “The only privilege you’re getting is the privilege of having </span> <em><span class="s2">me</span></em> <span class="s1"> as a wife.”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“A pretty good privilege then,” She spoke with no humour in her voice, only the remnants of a smirk (from making her blush no doubt). Eyes twinkling, she bumped into Cordelia’s shoulder again, clasping their hands firmly together. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cordelia squinted her eyes, regarding Misty suspiciously. It seemed she’d gotten overly bold since their vows, stare uninhibited, hand wrapped around her own in her lap. Words that had Cordelia’s heart stuttering stupidly. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Can I sit next to on you the plane? As your wife and all.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Queenie had sat beside her on the way over, and having slept for most of the ride Cordelia didn’t think she’d miss her company. “Okay, but you’ll have to ask Queenie.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I was sat next to Zoe before. She was real understandin’ but I think I’d like to hold someone’s hand and I’d rather hold yours,” She explained, voice quiet as she traced Cordelia’s fingers with the tip of her own. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Of course, Misty. You can swap,” She reassured without any further thought. Anything to make her comfortable. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The girls were probably getting their stuff packed for the flight later on, and Cordelia wondered if they should head back inside to pack themselves. The fresh air was too nice to leave behind, however, and Misty was close and warm. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How much can you remember? From last night?” Cordelia tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, thoughts whirring as she tried to piece together what led to them getting married. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t know. I remember my Stevie playin’ and then it gets all,” She started gesticulating wildly, curls bouncing about her neck, “Jumbled up. I remember dancin’ with you.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<strong>12 hours ago</strong>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Can I ask ‘em to play somethin’?” Misty had both elbows on the table, chin on the palms of her hands with her head slumped forwards. Eyes blinking tiredly, she looked up at Cordelia through her lashes. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“A song request?” She asked, sipping her cocktail through a straw. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah. I miss my Stevie. Do ya think they’d have it?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“They probably have access to any song. They’d definitely have Fleetwood Mac,” Zoe supplied for her, head bobbing along to whatever was playing.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Awesome. Where’d I have to go?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Madison slammed a tray down on the table before them, drinks toppling over the edge of their glasses. “Come on ladies, we’re doing shots!” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I wanna ask for Stevie,” Misty objected, trying to move out of the booth but stopped by the actress, who grasped her wrist and brought her back towards them. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll sort that out. You drink this.” Handing over a shot glass, Madison urged her to tip it back, smiling wickedly at the witches wince. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Is that gas?” She choked out with a cough to the other’s amusement. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Tequila.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Madison forced a shot down everyone, and handed out another lot before wandering off to grant Misty’s wish. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cordelia could feel her sight getting a little distorted as she knocked another one back, barely registering Misty slump beside her and Queenie brushing past her to reach for a glass. It might’ve been a bad idea to allow everyone to drink so much when they were in a completely different state without a sober adult with them. The others would only tell her to lighten up, so she loosened her posture and grabbed a third from the many that Madison brought over, laughing as the girls cheered her on. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That’s where it began to get hazy. Stevie Nicks started playing, there were shots seemingly appearing out of thin air (which wouldn’t be that much of a shock for a group of witches), Misty was dragging her to a dancefloor and twirling about with no care in the world. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">At one point she’d gotten close, breath dusting Cordelia’s ear as she quietly sang to the song, “Oh baby oh said oh, just like the white winged dove, sings a song.” She was sure she’d trip over her own feet at the deep, soft vocals dancing against her skin, but Misty was grabbing her hands and spinning them around until she was dizzy and threatening to bring up her dinner. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She wasn’t sure when they’d decided to leave the bar, but before she knew it herself and Misty were stumbling down the street towards their own hotel, giggling between themselves. The hallway towards Cordelia’s room seemed to be shrinking in on them either side as they continued to laugh, arms linked and feet in sync. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It took her five tries to open the door with the key card, but as soon as they entered the room Misty was flopping onto her bed, spreading out like a starfish. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Everything is tilting to the left,” She said in awe, voice a pitch higher as she lulled her head to the side to watch Cordelia kick off her heels and pour the both of them another drink. “Let’s play poker.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll be poor within a few minutes.” She sat on the edge of the bed, shakily handing Misty a glass of wine. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay, we won’t bet money.” Rolling over onto her stomach she eyed Cordelia up and down, looking smug. The drink clearly had done something to the both of them. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’re we betting?” She breathed out, a little slurred, watching as Misty twirled a piece of her hair around her finger, eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was a pause as the Cajun bit at her lip, teeth dragging across it, taking up all of Cordelia’s attention. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Clothes.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cordelia almost choked on her wine, spluttering, “Do you want me to be sat here naked?” At Misty’s silence, gaze still very much on her with intent in her eyes, Cordelia looked down at her glass, clearing her throat. “Fine. But be easy on me.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The witch cheered, sitting up with legs crossed, pushing Cordelia towards the cards and chips she’d bought in one of the gift shops. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Misty won the first round as predicted, leaving Cordelia with a sockless foot. The same happened the second round, and she started to get a little concerned; the only thing separating her from her underwear a dress. Thankfully, the God’s had mercy on her, or perhaps that was Misty, because she won the next round and the swamp witch had to take off her shawl. Her inhibitions had been lowered significantly, because when she lost the fourth round she took off her dress in one, huge swoop, left in black lingerie whilst she knocked back the rest of her wine and laughed at Misty’s astonished face. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Before she could ogle her anymore, Cordelia was standing and lifting the dress back over her head, the Cajun following her every movement. “Come on, let’s go to the bar downstairs. I feel like a martini.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She wasn’t even two drinks in, the hotel bar more intimate that the one they were at earlier in the night, before Misty was tugging at her dress, sprouting about missing the outdoors. The cold settled around them like a blanket of ice, cooling her red cheeks. There wasn’t any aim to wherever they were walking, but they wandered down the street, passing groups of people, tourists, dressed up in similar clothes to what the girls had worn.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Her feet had began aching in her heels, so they found the nearest bench, placed directly before a wedding chapel like it was placed there for people to see through the walls and watch the ceremonies. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They settled on the bench, staring at the bright lit up signs, huddled close together. Her sight was a little bleary, the lights mixing together into an abstract painting. “Would you wanna get married again?” Misty said, voice breaking the stillness of the air. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The drink had warmed her up enough to combat the chill that came with the night, but there were still goosebumps on her bare arms. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’d like to think I would. But I’m the Supreme, I have response- responsibilili-“ Misty almost cackled beside her, not calming down until she’d finished trying to utter the word. “And Hank is enough to put anyone off marriage.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m sorry he turned out to be a jerk,” She said with a slur, offering her hand for comfort. Cordelia took it thankfully, revelling in the warmth. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Would you like to?” She watched as a few people exited the Chapel, cheering behind a couple with wide, drunken grins, a bouquet between them. At Misty’s raised eyebrows, she nodded towards them, “Get married?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Maybe, I ain’t thought about it too much,” She ran her foot along the sidewalk, the gravel scraping along her shoe. “If I do I don’t want nothin’ fancy.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I bet you’d walk down the aisle to Stevie Nicks.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The next thing she knew, they were standing opposite each other in the chapel, laughing their heads off as they repeated vows, hands held between them. Misty looked radiant with the lights shining down upon her, like some angelic figure, swaying to the sound of Rhiannon. </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">She wasn’t sure who’d asked who, or how they’d ended up there, how they’d even gotten a marriage license, but Misty was saying </span> <span class="s2">I do</span> <span class="s1"> in her Louisiana twang, and it felt oddly right. That was definitely the drink talking. The last martini had sent her way too far over the edge. </span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The witness, supplied by the chapel, signed their marriage certificate and they were stumbling out with a bouquet of flowers, walking right past Madison, Zoe and Queenie, shock written all over their faces, and out under the veil of darkness of Vegas’ night sky.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The pace of the first chapter is kinda fast and a little different for me so I hope it was okay to read! There’s also quite a bit of dialogue, but I think it changes up a bit in the next chapter :) </p><p>If you enjoyed, let me know what you thought!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The One After Vegas</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>‘All she could see was that look in her eyes, like Misty was something disposable to her. Just a marriage to be nulled. Like she didn’t mean absolutely everything to Cordelia.’</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hi guys, hope you’re all staying safe amidst all this craziness :) I definitely prefer this chapter over the first so I hope you enjoy it! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">The scent of mud and plants had always calmed Cordelia, who’d found solace in the dingy little greenhouse that the academy had when she was a teen. It was a place of isolation; where she could get away from the expectations of her mother she’d never be able to reach, the sneers from the other girls that she didn’t </span> <em><span class="s2">seem</span></em> <span class="s1"> like she had royal blood in her, that surely there was a mistake and the hospital had swapped Fiona’s baby for another by accident. It was a place to just breathe, take time to nurture something and bring it to fruition. </span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She’d learnt a lot about botany in that greenhouse as a kid, bent over books and manuals, hands caked with soil, nails dirtied and brown most of the time. It’s where she utilised her magic, trying out potions and lotions to cure or to defend. Where she found her only strength. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When she was appointed headmistress at Robichaux’s academy, she invested in a little more spending for the greenhouse. Pots, soil, herbs and plants, the greenhouse’s own beakers and pipettes. She was the only person who bothered to nurture the plants, and nurture she did. The room had never looked so vibrant, so full of life, than when she was allowed to care for it on her own merits, as somebody in the highest place of authority at the school. It was pure magic. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Then came along Misty, somebody who understood her connection to nature and insisted she help with the plants and learn all about the technicalities of everything. She’d come preaching about Louisiana mud and it’s healing abilities, causing flowers to sprout, stems to grow and leaves to thrive with a brush of her hand. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She hadn’t spent an overwhelming amount of time with Misty then, but the impact of her loss was evident. The greenhouse seemed to weep with her absence. The leaves began to wilt, petals began to drop, the soil seemed to dry quicker than she could moisten it up. A phenomena that wasn’t particularly surprising, considering the impact Misty had on all the nature surrounding her. Cordelia might’ve even thought she was nature personified. An embodiment of Demeter or Gaia. Or perhaps she was more like Persephone; the seed of the fruits of the fields, goddess of spring and nature, who’d had a touch of the underworld. Cordelia wasn’t sure why she spent so long comparing Misty to goddesses.</span>
</p><p class="p1">When she returned from Hell, a beacon of everything light and hopeful, despite the hints of darkness that lingered in her misted eyes (like she couldn’t quite believe she was there), the greenhouse thrived once more. Cordelia didn’t have to try so hard to get the plants to continue growing. Didn’t have to water them twice as much. She’d told Misty exactly that, those seven months ago, and she liked to think some more light returned to her. Standing beside Cordelia in the greenhouse, caring for the plants, learning new things; she believed that was what helped her recover from so long spent in a cycle of torture and pain.</p><p class="p2">Misty had told her about it one evening when they were enacting the protective berries spell, something Cordelia had suggested due to how unsafe the Cajun had felt since being back. She’d recounted it in a hushed voice, as if Papa Legba could hear and would snatch her right back to the underworld. An immense feeling of guilt had taken over her then. At her own weakness and self doubt that prevented her from recognising her true power and forcing the girls to enact the seven wonders. At not being able to draw Misty back to them before the time ran out. At not being able to retrieve her from Hell.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Misty didn’t blame her. They’d talked about it for several nights, Cordelia mostly comforting, but at times the roles were reversed and she was the one who needed the comfort, despite the fact Misty was the one who had to endure it all. It drew them closer together. Some sort of greenhouse bond, growing like the plants they tended to. </span>
</p><p class="p2">There was one in particular that Misty loved, one she’d spend a little extra watering, talking, humming to. Cordelia didn’t think she knew that. Knew she gave more attention to one over the others, but she’d noticed it in the months spent down there together.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cordelia sat there now, staring at it. It looked vibrant beneath the warm lighting, a contrast to the brick walls. She ran a finger over the leaves and it seemed to lean towards it, following her trail.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The solitude was a welcome reprieve from the busy week that’d passed following their arrival back from Vegas. She’d barely had any time to sort out the whole...marriage situation. Misty was just as busy, teaching - it came naturally to her. She’d been hesitant at first, saying she couldn’t even lead a dog on a leash, let alone a whole classroom of young witches, but she thrived as a teacher, teaching something she was passionate about.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Again, her thoughts had gone back to Misty. </span> <span class="s2"><em>Stupid, stupid brain</em></span><span class="s1">. Placing her head in her hands, she tried her best to focus on what she was supposed to be doing, trying out a new potion, but her eyes were straying back to the plant, and her thoughts, to one resurrecting witch. </span></p><p class="p2">The sound of footsteps broke her out of her reverie, her pulse speeding up a little as they got nearer. “Miss Goode?”</p><p class="p2"><span class="s1">She was disappointed at the lack of a southern accent, turning around to see Mallory, a fairly new witch who’d arrived with Misty all that time ago. So, not exactly </span> <span class="s2"><em>new, </em></span><span class="s1">but any witch that wasn’t Zoe, Queenie, Madison or Misty was classed as new to Cordelia.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes?” She smiled over her shoulder, welcoming the girl to come closer.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Can I ask a question?” Halting beside her, </span> <span class="s1">Mallory looked hesitant, but there was always this </span> <span class="s2"> <em>look. </em></span><span class="s1">She didn’t quite know how to explain it. Like she knew her, like she knew something Cordelia didn’t.</span></p><p class="p2">“Of course, go ahead.”</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Did one of the girls get married in Vegas?” Mallory’s voice was inquisitive, calm, clearly not knowing quite so much to see her inner turmoil.</span>
</p><p class="p2">“What? Where did you hear that?” Her voice turned sharp, probably sharper than needed.</p><p class="p2">Mallory didn’t seem too phased by it, merely offering a shrug. “I’ve heard talk.”</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Talk?” This had Madison written all over it. Muttering under her breath, Cordelia rubbed at her temples. “What talk?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Just something about a wedding.” She surveyed the plants, running a finger across the one Cordelia had spent so long staring at. Her eyes landed on the record player a little away from where she stood, Stevie Nicks’ vinyls beside it, causing a slight upturn to her lips. She looked proud, almost.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Didn’t you ask the girls?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I did. They were hush.” At least they wouldn’t outright tell anybody. “I just wanted to know if I missed a wedding, is all, and I figured you’d know about it if it happened.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about,” Cordelia reassured, not really knowing how to go about avoiding a question that pertained to her drunken, Vegas wedding with Misty Day.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So there was a wedding?” This might’ve been the most Cordelia had heard the girl talk. Definitely the most expressive she’d seen her. It seemed like Mallory remembered herself, toning down the excitement at her raised eyebrows.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There were footsteps again, almost bouncing towards them, a telltale sign of a happy Misty. “Hey, wifey, how’s the annulment thingy comin’ alo-“ Once she’d rounded the corner to two sets of eyes on her, Misty stopped abruptly, placing a palm on the wall in surprise.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She looked radiant as always, curls loose about her face like a veil (this wasn’t really the time for wedding comparisons) eyes wide with shock. Cordelia would’ve forgotten Mallory was there if she didn’t speak up.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Wait, it was you two?” The realisation had dawned, voice two pitches higher as she looked between them. The shock didn’t last long. She seemed to process it and accept it with a look that said, </span> <span class="s2"><em>unsurprising</em></span><span class="s1">.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Misty mouthed a </span><span class="s2"><em>sorry</em> </span><span class="s1">across</span> <span class="s1">the room, hands clasped behind her back as she rocked up and down on the balls of her feet. One of the many things she did when she felt nervous.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Oh God. Mallory, please don’t tell any of the other girls,” She pleaded, thinking of the hell that would break loose if their students found out two of the teachers had gotten married. One of them being the headmistress, </span> <span class="s2"><em>and</em></span> <span class="s1"> the Supreme. “We were </span> <span class="s2"><em>very</em></span> <span class="s1"> drunk, and we’re hoping to annul the marriage.”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll stay quiet,” She assured, placing a hand on Cordelia’s shoulder. Then, with a knowing smirk, “I’m good at keeping secrets.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When she left with another bout of reassurance at Cordelia’s troubled frown, Misty wandered closer, placing her hand on the table beside her own. She had to flatten her palm to avoid the temptation of grasping it. “Hi.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey.” Cordelia smiled up at her, taking in the curve of her lips, the shape of her teeth as they poked out slightly in a grin.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sorry I...outed us,” She spoke sheepishly, fingers drumming rapidly against the table.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s okay, you didn’t know she was here. I’m sure Mallory won’t tell anybody,” She settled Misty’s tapping with a gentle touch, retracting her hand at the way her whole body seemed to still, the very beat of her heart stopping as she gazed down at her. Glancing away at the same damned plant, Cordelia continued. “We’re the only people that come down here, unless the girls want something from me. The most demanding council in the history of the Salem descendants I’m sure.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, for sure,” Misty agreed with a chuckle, dragging over a stool to sit beside her. Now that they were level, Cordelia had no choice but to maintain eye contact.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ve, uh, filed a ‘Petition to Annul Marriage’ at the district court, so we need to fill out the papers and hopefully get a court hearing soon,” Cordelia explained, answering the question she’d asked when she walked in. “They’re in my office. It’s been so busy this week I forgot to mention I went by yesterday.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s fine, Delia. We’ll fill ‘em out tonight,” She smiled like sunshine, pinky brushing against Cordelia’s (in a move that didn’t seem unintentional). </span>
</p><p class="p2">Misty jolted into action after noticing the silence in the room and skipped over to the record player, placing the needle on the vinyl that was already waiting with care. The familiar sound of Rhiannon filled the room, and Cordelia was reminded of their wedding (if it could be called that). Reminded of Misty’s grip in her hands, palms a little clammy, eyes cloudy from the drink, smile loose and dazzling. It came to her like a vision, only it didn’t have the foggy feel to it like visions usually did, like tendrils she couldn’t quite grasp. No, it was clear and vivid, a memory pushed to the forefront of her mind.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Electric eyes met her own, tentative; as if she’d reminded Cordelia of some awful part of her life that shouldn’t have been uncovered. Like she’d ripped off a bandaid, thrown her into ice water.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">With a forced smile, Cordelia beckoned her over by patting the stool, humming carelessly to the song, a way to assure her without delving into everything. She didn’t want to make Misty uncomfortable, was the reason she said to herself, but truly she knew it was her own cowardice. It was better to ignore the marriage and focus on </span> <span class="s2"><em>ending</em></span> <span class="s1">the marriage. That way she didn’t have to look into the reasons of why. Why she got married drunk, why it was to Misty Day. It was easier that way. </span></p><p class="p2">Taking her place back on the stool, Misty pulled at the tassels on her shawl.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you live in that thing?” Cordelia teased, watching the blush rise on the Cajun’s cheeks. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It was Stevie’s. It’s special to me.” She hugged it close as if she feared Cordelia would try to take it from her.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It looks good on you. Always has,” She offered, avoiding the eyes that snapped towards her, busying herself with mixing the potion.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thanks,” Misty said softly, a happy grin on her face like Cordelia had handed her the answers to the universe. Not that there were many questions to be asked. They knew what happened after death, what happened in Hell; they didn’t really focus on the specifics of why or how.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After a few beats of quiet between them, Stevie Nicks filling up the spaces where conversation should’ve been, Misty’s eyes strayed to the beaker before her, studying the contents with a question in her eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s a new potion I’m trying out. Something I read in a book.” She picked up the beaker, swinging it around so the liquid inside began to swirl. It reflected against the light, iridescent looking. It reminded her of the lit up signs in Vegas. The vibrancy of the bar and the streets. And subsequently, of standing in a chapel. </span>
</p><p class="p2">“It looks cool. Anythin’ I can do to help?” Always eager to please, Misty waited for some sort of assignment Cordelia could give her.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was entirely too endearing, the excitement behind her eyes at the prospect of helping. Cordelia had to look away towards the beaker before her, studying the numbers on the glass. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“A massage would help,” Cordelia joked, stretching her back, the muscles aching with the movement. She’d been bent over for too long, trying to focus on her potioncraft half heartedly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay,” Misty nodded, already standing and grabbing at her shoulders. The weight of her hands, warm and gentle, felt comforting. </span>
</p><p class="p2">“I was kidding,” She laughed, trying to knock the hands off but Misty had already began rubbing at the knots in her muscles, a little too forceful for Cordelia’s liking.</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> “Is that nice?” </span> <span class="s2"> <em>No.</em></span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Can you be softer?” She hesitated, wincing as Misty pressed a thumb into a particularly sore spot close to her neck.</span>
</p><p class="p2">“What? This is too hard?” Sounding shocked, she learnt forwards to get a look at Cordelia’s face, hair brushing against her neck, fingers relenting at the Supreme’s wince.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah. And go slower.” Cordelia found herself relaxing into the touch, Misty finding the optimum pressure that had her muscles loosening beneath dexterous fingers.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Working her way down her spine, Cordelia hummed in approval, leaning into the movement. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten a massage, and avoided dwelling on the implications behind them.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Does that feel good?” Misty’s voice came out a little breathy from strain, and Cordelia’s mind went straight to the gutter - imagining several different ways she could hear that from the woman above her. Feeling her voice would betray her, she gave a jerky nod, cheeks getting warmer.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A clear of the throat had Misty stilling, hands resting on the middle of Cordelia’s back as Madison’s voice filtered into the greenhouse (it seemed her plans of solitude wouldn’t be achieved, the whole academy barging into her sanctuary). “If I’m about to walk in on you newlyweds having sex in a greenhouse, I will happily go back to Hell.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“She was just giving me a massage,” Cordelia mumbled as Misty released her, moving to the stool with red cheeks that mirrored her own.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Aw, how romantic,” Madison walked into view, faking a gag as she got closer. At Cordelia’s unimpressed stare, she sighed. “Anyway, Cordy, we have a problem.” </span>
</p><p class="p2">“What is it?” Cordelia swivelled around on her stool, facing the witch fully.</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Well, </span> <span class="s2"><em>we</em></span> <span class="s1"> don’t. You do,” She shrugged nonchalantly, shooting a disdainful look at the record player. “I think some girls are getting suspicious of your marriage.”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And how did that happen? It’s not like we’re wearing rings.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Your tone seems very accusational right now,” She said, arms crossing her chest in a defensive stance. </span>
</p><p class="p2">“That’s not a word,” Misty quipped, to get a rise out of her Cordelia was sure. Their relationship had always been rocky since the whole coffin situation. Despite their shared trips to Hell, neither seemed to find comfort in that similarity.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, it is, but you wouldn’t know that because your list of vocabulary is limited to: Stevie Nicks, Cordelia, Delia, I do, swamp and shack.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Misty went to protest, shifting forwards in her seat in a way that had Madison stepping back with a slight flinch, but Cordelia grabbed at her arm; pushing her back. She wouldn’t have a retake of their previous dispute, though Madison definitely deserved that one.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Can you two not for just a second.” She chastised, receiving grumbles from the both of them as they looked away sulkily like hurt puppies. “I think we all know why word of a marriage is getting around.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t know why you’re blaming me. I mean, you and Swampy aren’t exactly subtle,” She scoffed, glancing at her nails in disinterest.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“What does that mean?” Cordelia pressed, feeling a little defensive herself. What did they have to be subtle about? It’s not like they were </span> <span class="s2">really</span> <span class="s1"> married.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The implications of them parading around something for the girls to see had her instantly overanalysing every interaction she’d had with Misty in the past week. Perhaps Madison was just doing it to rattle her. Everybody knew she loved a good bit of rattling, no matter how many times she said she was making something of herself after being handed another chance.</span>
</p><p class="p2">“Oh, I don’t know, I’ve just walked in on you dirty talking whilst she gives you a massage.”</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Misty’s face was pulled into a frown, whether angry or not Cordelia couldn’t discern. To avoid the clash that was sure to come between them, she tried to ignore everything that’d just come out of Madison’s mouth. “Mallory came to me earlier. She said she heard you guys talking about a wedding.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Madison’s silence was answer enough</span>.</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Just...try to stay quiet. We don’t need an overwhelming reaction from the girls. In a few weeks the marriage will be null and it’ll all be forgotten about.” That was certainly a lie on Cordelia’s part. She didn’t think she possibly </span> <span class="s2">could</span> <span class="s1"> forget it.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Glancing to Misty to see her eyes already on her, filled with something unintelligible, she tried to push down the incessant thoughts that she wanted more from Misty than a forgotten marriage. Tried to ignore the look she was giving her at that moment, like she’d tossed her aside; an afterthought.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fine,” Madison huffed, reminding Cordelia of the situation at hand. It was enough of an admission of defeat that she allowed her to leave with a stern reminder that she should stay quiet.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The song had stopped long before when Madison was still in the room, but only now was the space where Stevie Nicks should’ve been evident. There wasn’t even a breath from Misty, who sat as still as the air between them.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cordelia was the one who broke the silence first, asking Misty to hand her one of the herbs closer to the Cajun than herself. She moved robotically, body stiff. When she handed it over and their fingers brushed, she seemed to recoil into herself. She tried not to let the surprise show on her face, and was thankful the other witch was avoiding eye contact.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I- I think I should go talk to Mallory,” She stood up, the stool jostling beneath her and scraping against the ground. “And Coco. She probably knows something.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay,” Cordelia spoke softly, looking at that damned plant and wondering when something went wrong.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She was left with Misty’s retreating steps, and watched as the leaves seemed to drop just slightly. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was getting late by the time Cordelia decided to retire to her office. She might’ve gone straight to bed if she didn’t have the damned annulment papers to sign.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Flicking through the pages, Cordelia skim read any information, tapping her pen on the desk. She was sure they’d manage to qualify under the circumstances that they were both intoxicated, but there were doubts in her mind.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was definitely one of the more reckless, impulsive decisions she’d made. Up there with blinding herself. Of course that was for her coven (or one lost witch). She didn’t quite know what marrying Misty was for. Herself? A chase of adrenaline, of something significant in her life (other than being the Supreme of a coven of witches). Or maybe it was the only way she felt she could express any kind of suppressed feelings for her. A drunken marriage that could be blamed on one too many shots.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">It was selfish, really. She’d dragged Misty into this whole debacle, probably changed their friendship forever. And for what? A couple weeks of a false marriage only for it to be annulled. What a success. </span> <span class="s2"><em>Well done, Cordelia</em>. </span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">All she could see was that look in her eyes, like Misty was something disposable to her. Just a marriage to be nulled. Like she didn’t mean absolutely everything to Cordelia. Like Cordelia wouldn’t be there for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health. Like she didn’t love and cherish every aspect of her. Because she would and she did. She just didn’t think she herself could deal with the implications of that. Didn’t think Misty could deal with that knowledge, because their friendship had always been platonic beforehand, and nothing had changed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">So consumed in her thoughts, she barely registered the knock on her office door. Misty peaked around as it was pushed open, looking tentative. “Hi.” </span>
</p><p class="p2">“I’m just signing the papers now. Once I hand these in you should get yours,” Cordelia explained, only glancing at the Cajun for a few seconds before continuing onwards from the line she was on.</p><p class="p2">“Okay.” Misty sat in the seat opposite Cordelia’s desk, watching as she uncapped the pen and looked thoughtfully at the paper. “Delia?”</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hmm?” Cordelia wrote out the state they’d gotten married in, biting at the lid as she made certain she’d spelt Nevada write. Anything could happen. She didn’t want to be running back and forth amending mistakes every time she handed in a new set of papers. It’d take months for their marriage to be null. </span>
</p><p class="p2">“<em>Cordelia</em>.” Misty placed a palm on the table, fingers tracing the paper and catching her attention.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The sharp tone of her voice had her a little alarmed, mouth dropping open as she was met with an intense stare. “Yes?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Can we talk?” It came out as a sigh, a little defeated as she slumped in her chair, making herself smaller. “About it.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Clearing her throat, Cordelia put the lid back on her pen and straightened in her seat. Turning to face Misty fully, she nodded, a little slow, hesitant. ”Yeah. Yes, of course.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The sudden weight of it all, the tense stillness in the room, had Cordelia balling her hands into tight fists, nails digging into the skin of her palms. Of course her stupid, selfish decision had to be acknowledged. She couldn’t ignore it forever. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She was growing more nervous as Misty’s silence went on, fingers pulling at her sleeves, eyes focused on the annulment papers like looking at Cordelia would make her cry or something. It was the first she’d seen of her since the greenhouse. She looked weary, eyes slightly red in what she hoped was just from being tired. Cordelia hated herself for thinking she looked pretty like this, for the primal need within her telling her to comfort. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When she did break her silence her hands were flapping about in that fluttery, endearing way she did when she was talking about Stevie Nicks, or otherwise when she was nervous. Cordelia didn’t think Fleetwood Mac’s lead singer would be the topic of this conversation, so she went with the latter. “I jus’, I don’t know. It feels like we’re brushin’ over this like we didn’t just tie the knot.” She looked up, resolute. “It don’t sit right with me.” </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“I don’t think a drunken marriage would sit right with anyone,” She quipped, and by the frown pulling at Misty’s lips that wasn’t the answer she was hoping for. </span> <span class="s2"><em>When would she ever get anything right?</em></span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s not that. I don’t know. It seems like we’re forgettin’ it even happened.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you not want to?” Cordelia questioned, a little thrown off. </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“We’re downplayin’ it is what I’m sayin’. I know we were drunk and all but we got </span> <span class="s2"><em>married</em>,</span><span class="s1">” Misty stressed, as if Cordelia hadn’t realised that exact fact. Perhaps that’s how it came across to the swamp witch; that it was merely a misstep of judgement and she wasn’t plagued with thoughts of Rhiannon and Vegas chapels and Misty’s first thing curls. </span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re right.” Cordelia sighed, a heavy breath pulling through her lips like there were chains attached. Rising, she walked around the desk and leant against it just to the side of Misty, peering down at her with concern. “I’m sorry if I’ve been ignoring it.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, don’t start apologisin’. I just wanna talk,” She said, reaching for Cordelia’s hand. The touch should’ve brought her comfort, but it only made the guilt fester. She’d married Misty and ignored it like some craven mouse, probably leaving her friend stir crazy. “I never pictured myself gettin’ married. It’s kinda crazy.” </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Of course it would be alarming to Misty, who’d never experienced a marriage. Her first wedding and it was a sham. And with her friend, not a lover, a </span> <span class="s2"><em>friend</em>.</span><span class="s1"> A friend she had platonic feelings for, who she’d never imagined she’d marry. Not that Cordelia had imagined </span> <span class="s2"><em>marrying</em></span> <span class="s1"> Misty, just, maybe...being with her. </span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“I know it’s weird, but like you said; we’ll get through it. Once it’s annulled it’ll be like it never happened. Everything will go back to normal,” She tried to sound assured, tried not to focus on how upset Misty was that they’d gotten married. A part of her wanted to ask whether it was really </span> <span class="s2"><em>that</em> bad</span><span class="s1">, being married to her. But she didn’t need that right now. “You don’t need to worry your pretty little head about it.”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cordelia thought she saw a flash of disappointment pass over her, but she was looking away, retracting her hand from her grasp. She tried not to dwell on it. “You’re right.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I always am,” She said to echo the Cajun, earning a slight smile and a few seconds of eye contact. “Do you wanna stay whilst I sign the papers?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Uh, I think I’m gonna head to bed early.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She didn’t brood over the rejection, watching as the witch stood, heading straight for the door. Misty did look tired after all, dressed in a loose nightgown that seemed to swallow her whole. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Rest well, Misty,” Cordelia called after her, taking her place back in her seat to continue signing the papers. Maybe once they’d been sent off it’d be easier. Maybe once the annulment was over and done with they’d restore what they’d had before. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You too, Cordelia.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The time seemed to pass by quicker, now that the papers had been sent off and Misty had signed her own. It was no longer in Cordelia’s hands. It felt almost as if they’d gotten the annulment over and done with already. It seemed she saw Misty even less, and hated how she craved her company. Hated herself for allowing this to happen. </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">It might have had something to do with the fact Cordelia was slipping into brushing it off again, exactly what Misty had told her she didn’t want her to do. A part of her blamed it on being busy, not having the chance to talk about it, but realistically she knew it was her cowardice. She didn’t even know </span> <span class="s2">how</span> <span class="s1"> to approach it. “</span><span class="s2"><em>Hey, sorry we got married, wanna talk about it</em>?</span><span class="s1">” The opportunity never came, and Misty remained silent herself, not broaching on the topic. </span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">They were stuck in a difficult place between interacting tensely and tersely with one another in the greenhouse, and offering up awkward smiles in between. Cordelia found herself wanting to bring Myrtle back from the grave </span> <span class="s2"><em>again</em>, </span><span class="s1">so she could tell her what on Earth to do. All of this from a Supreme. Fiona had to be rolling in her grave. Or perhaps she was laughing. Or maybe she was too occupied with her own personal hell. </span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Time still had to move forwards, the coven had to go on, </span> <span class="s2"><em>they</em></span> <span class="s1"> had to. So Cordelia put on her big girl pants and pushed down anything that threatened to distract her from work, from protecting and leading her coven. </span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">There were a few new girls joining the school that week - </span> <span class="s2"><em>great timing</em>,</span><span class="s1"> she’d thought bitterly to herself - so she had something to sink her teeth into. Something to focus on and preoccupy the spaces in her mind reserved for Misty. Of course, that didn’t happen. The Cajun was mostly always on her mind, and if not, she was thinking about chapels or Vegas or Stevie Nicks and that always led back to Misty. </span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was getting a little stupid, how much she thought of her. Sometimes she couldn’t discern whether she was imagining Misty’s voice or hearing it. Surely that had to be some sort of psychological problem. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Madison didn’t make it any easier. She’d made it her mission to tease and prod at them about it whenever she could. Now that she had to stay hush around the other girls, she’d made sure it was the only topic of conversation when they were alone. Mainly the three of them. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So, is it really a marriage if it’s unconsummated?” She’d decided to think aloud, walking around the kitchen island one morning and brushing past Misty, then Cordelia, who were a good few inches apart in their seats. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’d been awkward to say the least, when Zoe had left the two of them alone after finishing her breakfast. Cordelia was grappling with conversation starters and planning on bringing up the weather, before Madison had sauntered in, a wicked grin on her face before she’d even began talking. She couldn’t even find it in herself to be relieved she’d been saved from mentioning how fucking sunny it was. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I mean, I don’t know what goes down in that greenhouse but I’m pretty sure you guys haven’t fucked yet.” She’d stopped near the sink, picking up a glass from the draining board and inspecting it like she was looking for marks. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh my God,” Cordelia hushed under her breath, closing her eyes as she brought a hand to her forehead. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Misty was silent beside her, stiff, having placed her toast back down on the plate when Madison decided to speak up. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wow, you guys are such prudes,” She’d scoffed, placing the glass back down and heading towards the fridge. “So, how’s your unconsummated marriage coming along?” </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Madison,” Cordelia had warned, not in the mood for anymore mortification. She couldn’t look at Misty in the eye for more than two seconds already, she didn’t need </span> <span class="s2"><em>this</em>.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, Cordelia?” She’d answered innocently, pulling out some orange juice and drinking straight from the carton. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“<em>Enough</em>.” Her voice was stern enough that she saw Misty turning to look at her from the corner of her eye.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No need to get your panties in a twist. I’d say Misty could do that for you but you guys ar-“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fuck off, Madison,” Misty had interjected, voice harsh and biting. She’d left the room after that, leaving her toast on the side. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Someone got out of the wrong side of bed this morning,” Madison had sang, grating through Cordelia’s nerves like a sharp blade. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’d taken everything in her not to yell at Madison right there and then, but she knew that’d only humour the witch more. Instead, she’d picked up the toast and found Misty slumped on the sofa beside Queenie, grumbling under her breath. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Here,” Handing over the plate, she’d smiled softly as Misty looked up at her a little shocked. “Ignore her. You know she just wants a rise out of us.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">So, sans Madison’s disruptive commentary, things had been okay. Not good, per say, but okay. They weren’t back to having deep conversations in the greenhouse and giving out massages, but Cordelia knew it’d just take time. A little space maybe, and everything would be fine. </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">That’d been her initial plan, space and time for each of them to breathe without mistaking the others scent for oxygen they </span> <em><span class="s2">needed</span></em> <span class="s1"> to survive. Until, of course, she received a letter detailing the court hearing that was to take place in a week and two days. </span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The first thought she had was to hide it from Misty. But no, that was ridiculous. What problems would that solve? It’d only create more. So she sat her down after dinner the next day and showed her the letter, biting at her thumbnail, feeling nervous for some strange reason. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“This is good, right?” Misty asked, sensing her worry. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah,” She answered noncommittally. Cordelia didn’t know why there was a sense of dread filling up her every pore. Why, suddenly, she was verging on a full blown panic. “I don’t know, it just seems surreal.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The marriage, or?” The concern on her face was too much to handle, so she settled for staring at her hands, spread out across the table. She focused on one particular ring, surveying the curve as it disappeared beneath her finger. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I guess.” She struggled to put her thoughts into words, not really even knowing what she was feeling. “I don’t know how to explain it. It could be just the shit I went through with Hank. It feels almost like a loss.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Like you’re losin’ me? ‘Cause I’m right here, Cordelia. It’s just an annulment, like you said.” A hand was sliding towards hers, and before it could grasp onto her own she was moving them beneath the table to pinch at her thigh. She was sure there must’ve been some reaction from Misty, but she didn’t look to see.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“No, it’s not that per say.” </span> <span class="s2"> <em>Who said per say in a normal fucking conversation</em></span><span class="s1">? “It just feels like my fate with marriage is being sealed?” </span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When there was no answer from Misty, who was probably just as stumped as Cordelia herself felt, she sighed. Looking up, she found the Cajun watching her carefully, eyes a little distant in thought. </span>
</p><p class="p2">“It just feels like I’m destined to have failed marriages,” She elaborated, trying to grasp onto the explanation like it wasn’t the fear of losing Misty that was the real problem.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was a silence as the swamp witch ran her finger along a crack in the table, following the swirls and intricacies of the oak. When she looked up again, she was tugging her lip with her teeth.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How about...we act like a married couple this next week, so you can say you’ve had a good marriage?” Misty proposed (quite literally) hands wringing together in front of her. The air left her lungs at the prospect, thoughts of what that would entail and how much the girl in front of her was willing to do to make it a little better.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s2"> <em>Damn you and your kindness Misty day</em></span> <span class="s1">. “You’d do that for me?”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s for me too, Delia. Who wouldn’t wanna be married to the Supreme?” She raised her eyebrows suggestively, warranting a roll of the eyes. “And I ain’t ever been married before. I want it to be memorable.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t know Misty. Wouldn’t it be, kind of...weird?” She wasn’t sure it would be weird more than being too much for Cordelia to handle, whilst holding up a facade of completely platonic feelings.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What, you scared you’ll fall in love with me or somethin’?” Misty leant forwards, close enough for Cordelia to feel the end of the sentence brush against her cheek in a breath.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“I-“ </span> <span class="s2"> <em>I’m already halfway there</em></span><span class="s1">. Misty laughed at her floundering, light and airy as she moved backwards. Cordelia could feel it like sand between her toes, grass at her fingertips. </span> <span class="s2"> <em>Maybe three quarters of the way</em></span><span class="s1">.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m just kidding with ya, Delia. If it’d make you uncomfortable we don’t have ta,” She said with an easy smile, letting her hand fall onto Cordelia’s shoulder before dropping limp at her side.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“No, it’s not that. I just-“ She didn’t quite know what it was. Perhaps it was the prospect of crossing boundaries, yet when she thought about it, they’d already crossed the biggest boundary there was to cross; promising themselves to each other for life. Maybe she was scared. Scared of seeing what it was like to have Misty, and then letting her go. Scared that she’d go too far and never be able to come back - that her feelings would only solidify and grow. </span> <span class="s2"><em>Don’t be so stupid, it’ll be pretend.</em></span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When she thought about it rationally, it was harmless. They’d spend a little more time together, be a little closer, share a bed maybe, go for dinner (she might’ve thought about this before) and then they’d go back to normal. It would be a way to ease the tension of this whole annulment thing, and maybe bring them closer to what they were before. “Okay. We’ll do it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Are ya sure?” She was close again, eyes crinkling at the corners but with a concern in those crystal blue depths.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Certain,” She spoke, swallowing the nerves clinging to her throat.</span>
</p><p class="p2">“Awesome.”</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It might’ve been the most idiotic decision she’d ever made, or perhaps that was the initial decision that’d gotten them in the situation in the first place. But she couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face as Misty allowed her to walk through the door first, heading into the living room with a gracious, “After you, Mrs Day.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What makes you think I’ll change my name?” She challenged, talking a little quieter when they passed some of the younger students.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t know, I like the sound of Cordelia Day,” She said with a cheeky grin, elbow nudging her arm. </span>
</p><p class="p2">The contact was fleeting, but it had a warmth running up to her shoulder, like she’d left a hint of her magic on Cordelia’s sleeve. It’d been a while since they’d had a conversation longer than five minutes. It was nice to have the lightheartedness again.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re insufferable.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">When Misty flashed her a dazzling smile, eyes crinkling, dimples appearing, joy spread across her face; Cordelia knew she was done for. <br/><br/></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I’ll try to post chapter 3 by next week but I’d written a lot more for this chapter than I have chapter 3 when I first posted this story, so no promises...</p><p>If you enjoyed make sure to leave kudos/comments :))</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. I Would Like To Be The Air That Inhabits You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>‘It was harder to deny her...attraction, her feelings—dare she say it—for Misty, when there were boundaries removed. Lines being crossed.’</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey, I’m sorry it’s been a little while. I was having lowkey writers block for some scenes in this chapter, but hopefully I’ll update quicker from now. Initially this story was going to be 2 chapters, then I changed it to 3, then 4 and now it’s probably going to be around 5 or 6. I hope you’re all doing okay and staying safe, and you’re using your voices where possible to speak up about matters that need to be spoken about. This chapter is longer than the others so hopefully that’s good news.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1">The birds were chirping through her cracked open window when she woke up on Friday, only </span> <em> <span class="s2">slightly</span> </em> <span class="s1"> later than usual. Her first thought was of that, the birds, and then it shifted to blonde hair and pretty smiles with dimples. It took her a little longer to get ready, thoughts swarmed with Misty and the week they had ahead of them, not even drowned out by the spray of her shower.</span></p>
<p class="p2">When Cordelia imagined spending a week acting as the wife of Misty Day (not that it was a recurring image) she didn’t expect the Cajun to be so...dedicated to it. Romantic, even. It wasn’t that she lacked dedication, more so that she came across as so carefree, unbothered by most things that she didn’t expect her to take it so seriously. But, as she found out when she opened her bedroom door to a single pink rose in a vase and a ring with a note attached, Misty Day was entirely dedicated to this week of marriage.</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Picking up the gifts with a soft smile, she ventured back into her room to place the flower in the faint sunlight streaming through her window, and carefully set the ring on her bed as she sat down and turned over the note. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s2">Dearest Cordelia,</span> </em>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s2">Here is my favorite ring that reminds me of you, as a symbol of our marriage and devotion ;) only wear it if you want to. I said I was gonna give you a happy marriage so a happy marriage you’ll get. </span><span class="s2">Meet me downstairs.</span> </em>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s2">Love from, </span> </em>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s2">Your wife.</span> </em>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was written in her familiar, untidy script that held its own distinct gracefulness. Cordelia ran a finger over the words, folded the note back up and placed it in her bedside drawer with a lingering touch. She slipped the ring on the fourth finger of her left hand, twisting it fondly. It was a little big, but fit well enough that it wouldn’t fall off. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1">She recognised it, had seen Misty wearing it often. A simple, gold band with intricate details cut out of the metal. Perhaps they were getting a little </span> <em> <span class="s2">too</span> </em> <span class="s1"> sentimental, with rings and handwritten letters, but if that’s what Misty wanted to do, Cordelia would happily receive the affections. </span></p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Smiling to herself as she made her way downstairs, observing the ring as she walked, Cordelia almost missed the girls sat around the living room, watching her. “What is it?” She asked, not quite managing to wipe the smile from her face.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1">“You look happy,” Zoe remarked, grinning herself like the sight of Cordelia smiling was enough for </span> <span class="s2"> <em>her</em> </span> <span class="s1"> to be happy. </span></p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“She looks like she just got some from Misty,” Madison muttered, not the least bit subtle. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1">Cordelia rolled her eyes, trying her best not to rise to the bait. It was hard when she was met with a smirk, but she’d been doing it for long enough, even when she couldn’t see the smirk but could feel it in each syllable. It was something she’d mostly become accustomed to. </span> <em> <span class="s2">Mostly</span></em><span class="s1">. </span></p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Girl, that’s nasty. You need to get your nose out of their business,” Queenie said with a shake of her head, a look of disgust as she glanced between the two of them. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1">“I didn’t get </span> <em> <span class="s2">anything</span> </em> <span class="s1"> from Misty,” She defended, hand immediately moving to the ring so she could cover it protectively. </span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Not even a rose?” Madison questioned, voice filled with nonchalance as she checked her nails, elongating her vowels. “Or a...</span><em><span class="s2">ring</span> </em> <span class="s1">?”</span></p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Madison,” Zoe warned, swatting at her arm. At least she had some people in her corner who could mind their own business. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What? If they wanted to be sneaky they would’ve been. Leaving flowers outside of somebody’s bedroom in a house full of other people isn’t exactly subtle, is it?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What me and Misty do is none of your business,” She argued, feeling a strange defensiveness, like she had to protect whatever they were doing, whatever they were. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It is when I have to see that shit.” She faked a gag, a classic Madison move that got under Cordelia’s skin every time. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She felt scrutinised almost, under the girls curious stares. Like they were trying to figure out exactly what was going on between the pair, as if they were some sort of puzzle to be solved. Their relationship was complicated, that much was clear, but it wasn’t something to be analysed. It had her wondering if they’d grilled Misty like this. The thought unsettled her. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s going on with you guys, anyway?” Queenie asked, letting the curiosity get to her. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nothing,” Cordelia spoke far too fast, her tone sharp enough to warrant a raise of the eyebrows from each of them. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Then why are you wearing a ring on your wedding finger?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We’re just...” Cordelia didn’t know how to explain it to them without sounding foolish. Or desperate and pathetic or all of the above. They were her council after all. Her friends, really, so they deserved to know a little about her personal life, even when she didn’t really know much of what her and Misty were doing. “We’ve agreed to-“</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Cordelia, you’re not obligated to tell us anything.” Zoe chimed in with her comforting smile before scowling at the girl beside her. “Ignore Madison, she’s just a nosy bitch.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1">“We’ve got a court hearing next week for the annulment so we’re making the most out of a week of marriage,” She tried to shrug it off as something casual, something that </span> <span class="s2"> <em>friends</em> </span> <span class="s1"> did. It mustn’t have been very effective, because Madison was preparing a smirk that usually entailed some sort of snarky response. “And no, Madison, that doesn’t mean we’ll be having sex.” </span></p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t make me sound like a pervert!” She protested, face contorting into a disgusted frown. “I don’t care what you weirdos do behind closed doors, as long as it’s not up in my grill.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Then maybe stop </span> <span class="s2"> <em>prying</em></span><span class="s1">. I am still your Supreme,” Cordelia reminded, voice turning stern. She watched Queenie and Zoe eye each other, Madison suddenly finding interest in the new rug she’d invested in, so far unstained by anything crimson. Mumbling something under her breath, she continued to avoid her eyes. “What was that?”</span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1">“I said </span> <em> <span class="s2">okay</span></em><span class="s1">. I’ll lay off you and the swamp bitch for a while, as long as you’re not reciting love poems about plants to each other.” </span></p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Then we’ll be perfectly fine.” Remembering Misty’s note and her elegant script, Cordelia’s smile returned. “Anyway, girls, do you know where Misty is?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“She came rushing down here not long ago saying something about bacon, so, my best bets are the kitchen,” Zoe told her with a knowing smile that managed to be considerate, not teasing nor curious but almost encouraging.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1">With a wave to the girls, she rushed off as quickly as she’d gotten married. The anticipation was almost too much. Whatever the Cajun had planned, it was definitely going to prove that Misty Day was </span> <em> <span class="s2">not</span> </em> <span class="s1"> a lazy lover, even if it was fake.</span></p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When she reached the kitchen, Cordelia was overtaken by the smell of food, and the sight of Misty trying to lift an egg out of a pan without breaking the yolk. She had a deep crinkle between her brows, concentrating, moving the pan and strangely large spatula methodically. Leaning against the doorframe with a grin, she watched the girl move carefully, and it seemed to be going well until she saw Cordelia and faltered, the yolk oozing onto the spatula.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s this?” She tried to contain a wide smile, but Misty’s excitement was evident in her eyes (despite the misstep), in the creases beside them and the dimples on her cheeks, so her happiness was inevitable. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2">“Breakfast,” Misty supplied, pushing a plate in her general direction across the kitchen island. She looked nervous, she realised, fingers all wrung up,  chewing on her bottom lip.</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The bacon was slightly on the burnt side for Cordelia’s liking and the egg was broken (she must’ve broken both of them), but the two pancakes - blueberry it seemed - looked fluffy and thick. Smiling, she took a seat at the island and picked up her fork. Without breaking eye contact, Cordeliabroke a piece off the pancakes and placed it in her mouth, humming appreciatively. Misty’s eyes watched her the entire time, slightly wide, a blush on her cheeks.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Delicious,” She spoke once she’d swallowed the food, giving Misty a toothy grin.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I- are you sure? I can’t remember the last time I made pancakes.” Bringing over her own plate, she sat opposite Cordelia with a shy smile, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She was draped in one of her favourite shawls, one Cordelia had mentioned looked good on her once and had since become more of a recurring pattern in her outfits. The black lace contrasted the light shade of her hair, getting mixed up in a jumble of blonde curls and flowers.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, they’re really nice," She assured, trying the bacon and finding it tasted better than she was used to. Either she liked it a little darker than she'd previously assumed or it was the thought of Misty making it for her. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do this.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She couldn't remember the last time somebody had woken up with the intention of making breakfast for her. Yes, Queenie had added an extra egg and some bacon to what she was already cooking when Cordelia had gotten up to find her in the kitchen, or made pancakes for her birthday. Zoe had toasted a couple pieces of bread when she was swamped with work or handling a matter for the coven. But this was new. Making breakfast just to make breakfast.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I wanted to," She shrugged, as if it was no big deal and she hadn't gone to all this effort just for her.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">They smiled at one another around their food, Cordelia barking out a laugh when a piece of pancake fell from Misty's mouth and landed in a puddle of syrup on her plate.</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When they were mostly finished, Misty seemed to remember something, reaching for her phone from the pocket of her dress (of course her dresses would have pockets) turning to Cordelia with an excited grin. “So, I did a little research of activities for married couples. I found some cool stuff we could do, y’know, to make the most of the week?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s2"> <em>Of course</em> </span> <span class="s1"> she’d go all in. Cordelia felt a little silly for not realising that beforehand. For underestimating how romantic the girl could be.</span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1">“</span><em><span class="s2">Do</span> </em> <span class="s1"> tell.”</span></p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So, I’ll just read ‘em all out.” She began scrolling through the phone Cordelia had gotten her a few months back, looking a little giddy.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“There’s exercise together, yoga, art appreciation, pray together,” Cordelia had been nodding along, but let out a quiet snort around the last of her bacon at that one, receiving two raised eyebrows, “Set goals together, raising a dog, I like that one.” Misty spoke with a grin.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m not sure-“</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Meditation, that’s cool too,” She interrupted pointedly, placing a finger to her lips to signal Cordelia to be quiet. The challenging glint in her eyes, as if she was daring Cordelia to speak, had her spine tingling. She stayed quiet. “Scrapbooking, tennis, video games, a massage - we already did that one.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cordelia felt her cheeks heating at the memory, and the way Misty wiggled her brows suggestively.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Raising kids,” Misty continued casually, scrolling further down the list as she forked a large serving of pancake covered in syrup into her mouth, leaving a spot beneath her lip. The urge to lean over the table and lick it off her chin had Cordelia’s gaze dropping to the china of her plate. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t think we have time for that in a week,” Cordelia smirked, pushing the last of her pancakes around to avoid teasing eyes. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You never know," She cocked her head to the side playfully, meeting her gaze again. “Hikin’ and bird watchin’. This ones right up your alley...crosswords and puzzles.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Gardenin’, but we already do that. Photography, cookin’ and bakin’,mystery date nights," She winked as Cordelia glanced up, eyes glinting with mischief, and the nonchalance shouldn't have been attractive but she found herself leaning closer to catch onto every word and see every miniscule change in facial expression - winks included. "Scuba divin’. Then there’s-" </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Misty...this is an awful lot of stuff," She interrupted finally, taking a sip of the coffee that'd been prepared for her. She caught Misty's blush over her mug, smiling around it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know,” Misty sounded sheepish, a little embarrassed as she twirled the ends of her hair. "I jus’, want this to be fun."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cordelia softened at that, chest feeling warm at the nervous way the Cajun was biting on her lip, glancing at the ring on her finger every so often. She'd have to look into giving Misty one of her own maybe, so she wouldn't be the only one wearing a significant ring on her wedding finger.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How about...we narrow down the list and choose our favourites for this week?” She suggested, brushing her fingertips over Misty’s wrist and flattening her palm just beside her hand. “We can still do this stuff together, it’s not all for marriages. They’re just bonding activities.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m pretty sure raisin’ a dog and kids together is quite marriagey, so we should probably do that one before the annulment.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"><span class="s1">Cordelia raised her eyebrows at Misty’s cheeky grin, cocking her head to the side as if to say, </span> <em> <span class="s2">oh</span><span class="s1">, </span><span class="s2">really</span> </em> <span class="s1">?</span></p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And mystery date nights,” She added, pinky brushing against the side of Cordelia’s hand as she got brave, that playful smirk on her face.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We can raise a plant together,” She conceded, fighting a wide smile at the pout starting to form on Misty’s lips.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"><span class="s1">“We already do that,” She near enough whined, frowning deeply now as if she genuinely thought Cordelia would say yes to raising a </span> <span class="s2"> <em>child</em> </span> <span class="s1"> for seven days.</span></p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was utterly ridiculous, but the thought of Misty running around with a young child, matching wild curls and wild energies, it had Cordelia sobering for a moment. Perhaps it was because she couldn’t have her own children, no matter how bad she wished to hold a baby in her arms, or maybe it was the surprising sense of longing the image produced, but she was fighting to keep her face neutral, clearing her throat noticeably.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We can play the game some of the girls have on their computers. Sims, is it?” She hoped the strain in her voice wasn’t noticeable. “We’ll make a sims baby.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Misty thought over the proposition, finger tapping against her chin in contemplation like she was deciding whether or not to move halfway across the country, or invest in something huge.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">With a resounding nod, she relented, “Deal."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cordelia felt like she had to slap herself. Not only were they faking a week of marriage, but in that fake marriage they were going to create fake versions of themselves and raise a fake child. This had to be a strange fever dream.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They cleaned up the dishes together, Misty washing and Cordelia mostly watching (upon the Cajun’s insistence) but drying when something was handed to her. It was agreed they’d make an official list of activities they could do in the week to keep track of everything, and plan accordingly to how much work they had to do in a day.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Of course the planning was Cordelia’s idea, who thought it was best to make a schedule of things to do. Only when Misty called her out on it with a fond smile, saying that marriages didn’t have to be scheduled, did she relent to just naming a few activities they could do within the week rather than creating time slots and allocated days.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">“I have a lesson this morning and some work to do today so I doubt I’ll have time for anything on the list, but, uh...we can get lunch together? If you want.” She said once the dishes were done and they stood at the bottom of the stairs like they were saying goodbye.</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She could hear the girls voices from the living room, still chatting between themselves, and the movement of some of the younger students upstairs, shuffling about to get ready for the day. It was a reminder that herself and Misty weren’t the only people in the house and they had responsibilities that went beyond their week of marriage.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’d like that,” Her teeth poked out over her lip in a toothy smile, a little bashful. Walking away to start her day rather than staying with her every second of the week might’ve been the hardest decision she’d made.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It turned out she had a lot more work than bargained for, because by the time lunchtime rolled around she was still bent over her desk, unaware of the time or the promise she’d made to Misty.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A tap on her door had her looking up from her computer screen, a smile tugging at her lips as she heard a quiet, “Knock, knock,” filter in through the wood.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Misty waltzed in with a sandwich and a latte she’d gotten to go from the cafe, her own sandwich and cup of tea with it. She was gripping them awkwardly, the cups almost falling from her hands as Cordelia rushed to help her place them down. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2">“You’ve prepared two meals for me in one day?” She asked once everything was settled on the desk, placing a hand against it as she watched Misty fuss over the cups.</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When she looked up, eyes alight with mirth, Cordelia had to take in a deep breath to avoid losing it at the sight of her flushed cheeks and messy hair, like she’d ran back from the cafe afraid that her coffee would go cold. “Maybe I should prepare a romantic dinner too?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m sure that can wait for a later date. I don’t want to exhaust you too early on in the week.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2">“I’m fine with you exhausting me.” They both paused, eyes wide at the wording as Misty cheeks turned slightly red, before Cordelia let out an abrupt laugh.</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We haven’t even shared a bed yet,” She winked, walking around her desk and brushing her fingers across the wood. As she took her seat, she saw Misty had stayed in the exact same place, watching her just as wide eyed as before, if not more. “Are you going to sit down?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Right. Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Lunch came and went too quickly for Cordelia, who wanted to hold onto Misty with her endearing jokes and sweet laughter, but had to let her go for a lesson on resurgence</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She didn’t see her until dinner, and even then their interactions were brief, both of their attentions taken up by the tens of other people in the room. A part of her longed for only the two of them to be in the room, another was thankful she didn’t have to face her. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After dinner, Cordelia spent the rest of the evening watching a movie with some of the girls where she usually might’ve gone to the greenhouse with Misty. She knew she was there, had seen her walk off after they’d finished their food, glancing at her every so often as if asking her to come. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1">It was too much, suddenly. The weight of their agreement and the night ahead. She was sharing her </span> <span class="s2"> <em>bed</em> </span> <span class="s1"> with Misty. She hadn’t shared her bed with anybody since Hank (other than Vegas, but that hardly counted). </span></p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She didn’t focus on the movie, too preoccupied with thoughts of Misty and troubling over how the night would go. Only when the girls had dispersed and had enough time to settle did she stand up and head out towards the greenhouse, chewing on her lip nervously. It was evident she was there, a gentle hum of music coming from the space as she sang along quietly. The worry slipped away as she got closer, the sound of Misty singing enough to soothe any form of nerves she had.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She recognised it as Rhiannon, could identify the song from a mile away considering it’s what she walked down the aisle to. Even if not in the traditional sense. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Misty was nestled away in a corner, bent over a plant with a watering can and humming softly to it. “I’m glad you sing to them. I’m sure they’d wilt if I tried.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Her head whipped around upon Cordelia’s entrance, looking a little embarrassed, like she’d been caught red handed. Whether it was the fact she was singing to the plants, or the actual song she was singing to, Cordelia was unsure, but she smiled softly in what she hoped looked like reassurance. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I think they like it,” She shrugged, placing the watering can down and turning to face her. There was a smudge of dirt on her forehead, revealed as she brushed away some hair with the back of her hand, her palms covered in soil. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s cute,” She said without thinking, looking at the ground as Misty’s eyes widened. Clearing her throat, she rubbed at the back of her neck, feeling her nerves returning. “I was just coming to tell you I’m heading to bed.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh.” Her fingers reached for her hair instinctively, but halted as she remembered the state of her hands. “I was just finishing. I can come up with you.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay,” She nodded, stepping back slightly as Misty brushed passed her to put the watering can away, rushing around the greenhouse to straighten everything out. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They walked upstairs in silence, the tension thick in the air like something tangible. Misty rushed off to her room to grab some things, giving Cordelia a chance to straighten out her bedside table and make sure she hadn’t left her underwear in the bathroom from her shower that morning. When she returned, hands still muddied, it only thickened. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was almost like the morning they’d woken up after getting married, except instead of moving on from sharing a bed, they were heading towards it. It shouldn’t have felt so monumental, it was just a bed for Christ’s sake, but Cordelia could barely find it in herself to look at Misty for longer than a few seconds. The Cajun seemed to be in the same state, standing awkwardly near the side of her bed, pyjamas in one hand, toothbrush in the other as Cordelia routed around in her drawer for her own. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you...want to get ready first?” She asked from where she was crouching, trying to find something that wasn’t too revealing but not unflattering. It shouldn’t have been so hard to choose a pair of pyjamas. “You can get changed and brush your teeth in the bathroom.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sure thing,” Misty offered an awkward smile before retreating into the en-suite. By the time she came back, a waft of mint following her, Cordelia was changed and sitting on the bed. Her hands and face were clear of any dirt, freshly washed, and her hair looked a little neater. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2">“I won’t be long, you can get settled if you’d like,” Cordelia brushed passed her, heading towards the crack of light in the dim room, only lit up by the lamp on her bedside.</p>
<p class="p2">“What side do you want? The one with the lamp?” She questioned politely, hands wrung together and voice a little hesitant.</p>
<p class="p2">“If that’s okay.”</p>
<p class="p2"><span class="s1">“Of course.” It felt almost formal, the minimal words passed between them, and Cordelia was thankful to have time to collect herself and pray it didn’t become </span> <span class="s2">too</span> <span class="s1"> awkward.</span></p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Misty was lying on her side, covers pulled up to her shoulders when Cordelia returned, phone resting in her hand on the pillow beside her as she scrolled. She’d taken a liking to Pinterest in the past few months, making boards for Stevie Nicks, plants and odd house decor. Instagram too. She’d hazard a guess that she was on one of those. Cordelia didn’t get to find out however, because as soon as she dipped onto the mattress Misty was putting her phone away.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Missed ya wifey,” She joked as Cordelia took her place on the left side, immediately being encompassed by a warmth whose source was smiling at her sleepily. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2">Cordelia laughed, more of a chuckle as she settled beside the Cajun, face soft and warm beneath the lamplight. “I was five minutes.”</p>
<p class="p2">“Long enough, then.”</p>
<p class="p2"><span class="s1">There was a silence, Misty watching her carefully as if she was afraid to close her eyes or speak or move an inch. Cordelia thought she looked pretty like this, hair spread across </span> <span class="s2"> <em>her</em> </span> <span class="s1"> pillow, face shrouded in faint light and shadows where Cordelia obscured its path.</span></p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Is this strange?” She spoke finally, accent strong in her near whisper.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“A little bit,” Cordelia admitted, teeth tugging on her lip in a nervous gesture. Misty’s eyes seemed to linger there for a second before moving to a spot on the wall behind her.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What do you usually do when you go to bed?” It seemed a little abrupt, like she was trying to find conversation to fill whatever was in the air between them. Tension? Awkwardness? </span>
</p>
<p class="p2">Cordelia raised her eyebrows, feeling a smirk tugging at her lips. “Sleep?”</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, I mean-“ Her nose scrunched up, eyebrows furrowing, seeming a little embarrassed, “Before that.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1">“I like to read. It’s about the only time I can.” She glanced over at the book beside her lamp, </span> <span class="s2"> <em>The Edible Woman,</em></span><span class="s1"> and the way the corners were curled up slightly.</span></p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I go on my phone.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Let’s do that, then.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1">They didn’t speak much, just basked in what had become an almost comfortable silence. Misty’s phone light was comforting, somehow, and the warmth just centimetres away from her bare arm, nestled beneath the covers as if seeking it, felt familiar. It was the other woman who relented first, letting out a loud sigh after a yawn and locking her phone, turning onto her side and telling Cordelia she was </span> <em> <span class="s2">gonna head inta dreamland.</span></em></p>
<p class="p2">Misty had fallen asleep despite the soft light coming from Cordelia’s lamp, face turned towards her, lips slightly parted. Her chest rose and fell like the crest and fall of waves in a gentle lap, calm after a storm. She wondered what it’d be like to be that unnoticed, to be the air that inhabited Misty’s lungs, that necessary. A strand of hair moved with each breath, caught up in the trajectory of air. She had to refrain from brushing it back from her face and running her hands through it, or tracing a thumb over her lips.</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When she realised she hadn’t read a single line of her book in the past five minutes; too focused on watching Misty as she slept, Cordelia slammed it shut with a sigh, wincing when the Cajun shifted, eyebrows furrowing.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Expecting her to settle, Cordelia went to reach for the lamp but turned to see Misty hadn’t stopped stirring, movements becoming more violent. Her face was contorted into a distressed frown, knuckles white from how hard she was gripping onto the sheets as she warded off phantom demons. Cordelia recognised it as a nightmare when she heard quiet whimpers escaping her throat, vulnerable and filled with fear.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She wanted to reach in there somehow, give her the silver branch, the small white flower, the one word that would protect her from the grief at the centre of her dream. She wanted to be the boat that would row her back carefully, a flame in two cupped hands where her body laid beside her. Instead she watched her a little dumbstruck, not quite knowing how to deal with the situation.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When her movements became more frantic, Cordelia decided it’d be best to wake her up. She brushed her hand across Misty’s arm, tapping the skin lightly and whispering her name. She must’ve been on the threshold between sleeping and waking because it was enough for her to jolt awake, eyes wild as she looked to Cordelia, trying to adjust to her surroundings.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s okay, you’re safe,” She reassured until Misty’s laboured breathing had calmed and she’d relaxed into the mattress, pupils holding recognition rather than confusion. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2">There were a few seconds where she just watched Cordelia as if trying to convince herself she was truly there.</p>
<p class="p2">“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake ya,” Misty spoke, voice cracking as she rubbed at her eyes tiredly.</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, it’s okay. I was awake,” Cordelia said, looking down at Misty in concern. “Are you okay?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How long was I sleepin’ for?” Whether she avoided the question or didn’t take much note of it in her just roused state, Misty skipped over it regardless.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Half an hour maybe.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh. I don’t usually dream that quick I don’t think.” She sat up a little, pulling the covers up to her chest protectively, like there was a chill in the room.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1">“This happens often?” Cordelia questioned, a frown etched onto her features. The thought of Misty writhing in her sleep as her subconscious conjured up dark images to take over her light saddened her. She hoped it was every once in a while - a rare thing. Cordelia wasn’t unfamiliar with nightmares, she’d had plenty, but Misty was so god damned light and cheerful, to think of her hurting? It hurt </span> <span class="s2">her</span> <span class="s1">. She’d lost a bit of light that she’d never regain, a cup of innocence that Papa Legba had stolen from her.</span></p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s gotten better,” Misty shrugged, eyes dancing across the walls.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">“That doesn’t answer my question.”</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s not too bad. Once, two times a week. It don’t bother me. I sleep through it sometimes.” Bunching the covers up in her fist, she regarded Cordelia with a playful shake of the head, the frown lines easing a little. “You worry too much.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I just- I care about you. About all the girls,” She added on reflection, thinking it sounded a little too desperate. Misty’s face was blank, unblinking. “Do you want to talk about it?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1">“It’s fine.” When Cordelia went to protest, Misty grabbed for her hand, smiling in a way that didn’t quite reach her eyes but held a warmth that soothed her nerves a little. “</span> <span class="s2"> <em>I’m</em> </span> <span class="s1"> fine. You should get some sleep.” </span></p>
<p class="p2">Lacing their fingers thoughtlessly, Cordelia watched her for a few beats, wondering if she’d ever fully recover from her time in Hell. When Misty didn’t relent, she settled onto her pillow, their palms still pushed together. The Cajun followed, pulling the covers up over their shoulders as she rolled to face her.</p>
<p class="p2">“I’m here if you ever need to talk about it. About anything.” She reminded, eyes closing for a few prolonged seconds as Misty’s breath brushed against her cheek. They were close, Cordelia could feel her warmth just centimetres away, had the urge to link their legs together but refrained from doing so, happy to just hold her hand. It could pass off as merely a comfort.</p>
<p class="p2">“I know,” Misty nodded, a watery smile that had her eyes reflecting the light from the lamp.</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m sorry I couldn’t bring you back.” Her voice was raw, vulnerable; giving away the guilt and the regret and the pain that’d been there beneath the surface for months since Misty’s return.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1">They’d talked about it, of course they had, Cordelia wasn’t </span> <span class="s2"> <em>completely</em> </span> <span class="s1"> out of touch with her emotions and expressing them to others. But it seemed different now. More weighted beneath the darkness of the night and the knowledge that Misty still suffered after all the time that’d passed. </span></p>
<p class="p2">“I know,” She repeated, squeezing at her hand. It didn’t feel like enough.</p>
<p class="p2">“I-“</p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1">“You </span> <span class="s2"> <em>tried</em></span><span class="s1">, there was nothin’ you could do. Please don’t apologise for that,” Misty implored, a hand snaking out of the covers and landing on Cordelia’s cheek. It burned at her skin as if she held the flames that’d once killed her in her palm.</span></p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I failed you.” She could feel a tear trailing down her cheek, felt Misty brush it away with her thumb and latch their hands together even tighter.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You didn’t fail anybody, Cordelia. I did the seven wonders and I faced the consequences of that. You didn’t force me, I coulda run back to my shack if I really wanted to.” Her voice was desperate, like the very thought of Cordelia blaming herself was hurting her. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2">“I couldn’t get you back.”</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m here now, ain’t I? That’s all you gotta worry about, gettin’ rid of me now that we’re legally bound together,” She giggled lightly, earning a soft smile from the older witch.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Misty leant on her elbows to reach over her, chest almost brushing her face as she switched off the lamp. “Come on, you must be tired.” When she settled, she pulled the covers up to Cordelia’s chin as if she’d been the one having nightmares. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2">“I’m right here, I’m not goin’ anywhere. Soon enough you’ll be kickin’ me out of here. I can move a lot in my sleep and if I start dreamin’ again there’s no chance of you havin’ a full night’s sleep.” Misty’s face was full of shadows in the darkness, the only source of light the shine of her eyes.</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t mind,” Cordelia’s voice came out soft, the exhaustion evident on her tongue. “I’m happy you’re here.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m happy I’m here too.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Choosing to ignore the weight of the comfort she was finding from Misty being in her bed, warm and soft and understanding, Cordelia allowed herself to relax. She could question it when the sun rose.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When Cordelia woke the next morning, Misty was close by; nose almost brushing her own. She rolled over to check the time, seeing her body’s natural clock was still intact - always up around six thirty. She turned off the seven o’clock alarm she had set just in case.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The sun, still low and unobtrusive, was starting to slant through the curtains, highlighting the blonde of Misty’s hair and setting aglow her skin. The short, fair hair on her arms, no thicker than fine strands of silk and sparse, shone like water reflecting light. The duvet was pulled tight round her middle, showing the crest of Misty’s hip and the dip of her waist, till there was another slant upwards past her right breast to her shoulder. Cordelia’s eyes reached her face, taking in the light dotting of blemishes across her cheeks, the arch of her brow, the point of her chin.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Realising she’d been staring, Cordelia internally cursed herself, rolling onto her back so she could only look at the ceiling. It was plain, it didn’t have any etchings so that she could focus on finding faces and shapes, anything to distract herself from the woman beside her.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1">It was harder to deny her...attraction, her </span> <span class="s2"> <em>feelings</em></span><span class="s1">—dare she say it—for Misty, when there were boundaries removed. Lines being crossed. It’d only been one day and she could already feel herself slipping further into whatever it was she was feeling. Their previous lingering touches had become something more, the looks, the warmth that spread through her at the sound of the soft melody of Misty’s voice laden with sleep - they were all signs of something more. And Cordelia knew it was pretend. This arrangement, the week ahead of them, but she couldn’t help herself from craving it. Couldn’t help the loss that settled in her bones at the thought of the week ending.</span></p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When Misty began to shift beside her, closer, arm brushing over her hip as if she were searching for warmth, Cordelia slipped out from under the covers. She wouldn’t allow herself to indulge in anything more than what Misty was willing to give to her, and she was sure staring and revelling in their closeness whilst she was unconscious was not one of the things on that list. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<hr/>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So, where are we goin’?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2">The sun had risen so that it beat down on them from above. The air was a little too humid in the town centre, the streets stifling, traffic offensive; the sound of running engines and the slight hint of a shift in the air from fumes. It managed to dampen the serenity between herself and Misty as they both seemed to tense up in the urban environment. The atmosphere calmed significantly when they reached City Park, and so did the Cajun, wide eyed and thriving surrounded by nature despite how busy it was with the warm weather.</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She rejoiced in the way Misty seemed to buzz beneath the sun’s rays, soaking it up like a leaf. She was clearly excited, urging Cordelia to walk faster and reveal where they were going. There was something about an eager Misty, slightly on edge with anticipation, that had Cordelia smiling and withholding the information for as long as she could. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"><span class="s1">It wasn’t </span> <em> <span class="s2">meant</span> </em> <span class="s1"> to be a surprise, but she’d dragged Misty out of the school after a quiet morning with the girls, noon just ahead of them, and it’d all been a bit spontaneous. It wasn’t </span> <span class="s2"> <em>overly</em> </span> <span class="s1"> spontaneous, considering they’d talked about this exact thing, and mentioned it for their list of activities, but Cordelia liked to think it was a bit impulsive, a little out of character.</span></p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Misty was practically vibrating beside her, tugging at her sleeve, whining impatiently until they stopped at a diverging path. It should’ve been clear where they were headed now, towards an isolated building surrounded by greenery, distinct from the ones they’d passed before. Grand, neoclassical, it’s pillars towering over an idle fountain. It reminded her a little of the academy, imposing and impressive.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Is this what I think it is?” Misty said behind a grin, grabbing Cordelia’s sleeve and tugging her along. Their footsteps crunched on the gravel, dragging pebbles beneath their boots as Misty sped up their pace to get to the destination.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“If that’s New Orleans Art Museum, then yes.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">“Awesome!” She cheered loudly, gaining the attention of a few people around them, smiling as they caught her eyes. They smiled back, if a little hesitantly, and Cordelia probably should've controlled how wide she was beaming, because Misty was looking at her a little strangely by the time she’d caught sight of her. She dropped her lips into a shy grin, glancing at the point of her boots, and only looking up again when Misty laced their fingers together, squeezing her hand. "I’ve never been to a museum, but I’ve always wanted to see what it’s like.”</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She sucked in a sharp breath, looking down at their joint hands, but Misty was looking ahead when she tried to find her eyes.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">“I’ve been to a few, probably not as many as some.”</p>
<p class="p2">“Have you been to this one?” Misty asked, as if she were hoping it’d be a new experience for the both of them.</p>
<p class="p2">“Once, but it was a while ago. It would’ve changed by now.”</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cordelia paid for their admission, making a quip about buying a senior ticket for herself, breezing passed the bag check with no large bags or umbrellas. It didn’t take long for Misty to grab her hand again and tug her along without directions. She had to repress the urge to slow her down and look at the leaflet she’d grabbed on the way in to see where they were headed, plan a route and follow a map room by room, media by media, artist by artist. But the comforting weight of Misty’s hand, loose as she pulled her along and slightly clammy from the heat that lingered from their walk (that might've also been her own), had her going along with it. Perhaps it was a day of spontaneity alone. Careful planning left locked in the drawer of her office desk.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I wanna see some fancy paintings.” Misty surveyed the walls, eyes lighting up like fireflies as she studied the art from a distance. “Let’s go upstairs.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You don’t want to look downstairs first?” She laughed as Misty almost skipped up the stairs, running her fingertips over the bannister, shawl brushing against it. She looked like she belonged in such an elegant place, movements graceful and delicate.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nah, we start up and work our way down.” She glanced at her quickly, a look of calculation, before turning forwards and throwing over her shoulder, “Like what I could've been doing on our wedding night." Stopping in her tracks at the top of the stairs, Cordelia stared at Misty with her jaw hanging open, quite frankly astounded. The abrupt movement had the swamp witch falling back into her slightly where their hands were still joined, turning to reveal a smirk. "If our marriage was real, of course."</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">"</span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>Misty</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">," She gasped, looking down at the ground to hide the warmth that'd reached her cheeks. Cordelia tried desperately not to imagine that situation, looking to the art on the walls and ignoring how close the other woman had gotten. Images of white lace bras and Vegas hotel rooms.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Sorry, Delia. I just couldn't waste an opportunity like that." She was chuckling lightly, though she sounded sincere, ducking to meet her eyes.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cordelia allowed herself to laugh at the apologetic look on Misty's face, punching her on the shoulder softly and earning a relieved smile, as if she was scared she'd crossed a line. She supposed there wasn’t much of a line anymore, more of a thin layer of dust between them, separating reality and fantasy. This, the hand holding, the flirting; this was a fantasy. She tried to remind herself of that as Misty dragged her around the museum, never staying in one place too long. The reality was at the academy, their friendship, Cordelia’s position as the head of the coven, all the complications and paperwork of an annulment. Although the distinction had blurred, it was still there. It wouldn’t magically disappear, and if it did, well...that would be a different problem altogether.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When they reached the contemporary art, Misty stopped in front of a 1960 Picasso painting, turning to Cordelia with amusement in her eyes.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It looks kinda silly, don’t it?” She leant forward on her toes, tilting her head to get a better angle.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, it does,” Cordelia agreed, never having been one to fully understand abstract or distorted art. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2">“I feel the emotion in it. He’s been through a lot, that man, I feel it.”</p>
<p class="p2">Cordelia just smiled, watching Misty‘s hand curl in on itself, falling to her side as if it took effort not to brush a finger over the frame.</p>
<p class="p2">And just as quickly as she’d gotten invested in the painting, she was turning around with a new objective shining in her eyes. “Come on. I wanna see the Japanese paintings you mentioned.”</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cordelia was mostly admiring Misty, rather than the art, as silly as it sounded. The way she flit about, painting to painting, like a hummingbird jumping between trees. She seemed to connect to the artworks like they were each a part of her, a part of her story and life. Like she saw herself, somehow, in every painting. She’d never had a passion for art, but seeing the way Misty utterly immersed herself in the minute details on each canvas, Cordelia thought it might’ve been growing on her.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The photography exhibit calmed her a little, attention back on the witch beside her as they strolled around close to the walls. They observed the pictures together, a little halfheartedly, until Cordelia found one she liked and stopped to take in the black and white figures and their shadows dancing across the floor. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1">When she turned to Misty she was watching her, a soft smile in place. She looked down at the ground, pulling at the tassels on her shawl. “Didn’ ya say somethin’ about a sculpture garden?” She asked, perhaps to deflect, deflect </span> <span class="s2">what</span> <span class="s1"> Cordelia wasn’t sure. </span></p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We can look now if you’d like?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She seemed to realise something then, stiffening. “I’m sorry, Delia. I’ve been draggin’ you around everywhere to places I wanna go,” Misty scuffed the point of her boot along the floor, guilt all over her features. “Is there anythin’ you wanna see?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s okay Misty, I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. I am too. It’s nice to just relax and go with the flow instead of planning everything precisely to a T.” It was meant to be reassuring, but the glint in the Cajun’s eyes seemed to turn mischievous. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You like somebody else makin’ the decisions?” Misty quirked an eyebrow, leaning against the wall where they’d stopped, legs crossed at the ankles. Cordelia would never get over the easy way she slipped into this suave confidence from the woman that’d previously been cooing over a painting of flowers.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was a pause where Cordelia considered her answer, mirroring Misty’s stance by leaning against the wall. “I like to sometimes hand over the control.” She said it with as much disinterest as she could muster, shrugging her shoulders and looking off towards a group of people that’d walked into the room, but as she turned back to Misty her cool exterior was lost, and she was trying to swallow down a lump at the intensity of her stare under the warm lighting.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Interesting,” The Cajun nodded, leaning further into her space.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1">The proximity was almost too much for Cordelia, seeing Misty up this close and feeling the incessant need to touch her, to run her fingers through her hair or brush a thumb over the apple of her cheek. It </span> <span class="s2"> <em>was</em> </span> <span class="s1"> too much. So she cleared her throat, looking down at Misty’s scuffed shoes to avoid getting lost in her eyes, or worse, in her lips.</span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Although, <em>I </em></span> <em> <span class="s2">am</span> </em> <span class="s1"> interested in seeing the French decorative art.” It was an escape, she knew that. Misty might’ve seen that, she had a thing for reading people and situations, but she was stepping back and nodding without a crack in her facial expression.</span></p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Let’s go there then.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They weren’t as impressive as she’d thought they’d be. Truthfully, it was one of the only exhibits she was looking forward to. But Misty didn’t seem particularly interested in the golden frames and portraits, perhaps sensing an inauthenticity, and Cordelia found she much preferred watching the excitement of the woman responding to the art over actually viewing it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It wasn’t until they’d gotten to the last French painting that Cordelia decided they’d probably both had enough of the museum. “Come on.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We’re leaving?” The confusion was palpable as Cordelia took her hand and led her away from the exhibit, heading towards the exit.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re bored. It gets a little dull after a while,” Cordelia supplied, finding she’d long been bored of the art. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You paid like $20 for us.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We’ve already seen all your favourites. We got a lot out of that money.” She didn’t question her further as they left the museum and stepped into the humidity outside. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was a light breeze now, however, and it caused Misty’s hair to blow into her face as they walked. She apologised sheepishly, rushing to gather up the strands and pull them back into a low ponytail. Cordelia had rarely seen Misty with her hair up, but she appreciated the unobstructed viewof her jaw and the curve of her neck. Allowing her eyes to linger there for a while, she almost forgot her objective in leaving early. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Let’s take a walk around the park,” She suggested once her focus was back on the gravel, offering up her arm to Misty who linked it with hers with a happy grin. “There’s a cafe close by that sells some good ice cream”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I thought you’d only been here once?” She laughed, dimples appearing, more visible without her hair to cover them. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Trip Advisor,” Cordelia shrugged, looking at Misty from the corner of her eye with a smile. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“When did ya check that?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“When we were in the textiles section.” It was another quick decision she’d made, picturing Misty beneath the sun and surrounded by greenery, at peace.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh yeah, that one was pretty dull,” She agreed, before nudging Cordelia’s shoulder, “For a second I thought you’d been plannin’ to take me here for longer than you’re lettin’ on.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2">“You wish.”</p>
<p class="p2">The cafe wasn’t overly busy, and they both decided it was too hot outside for a warm drink, so bought an ice cream each. Cordelia had her vanilla in a pot with a spoon, whilst Misty was licking at her strawberry cone, sprinkles on top.</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They took them to go, finding a fairly serene route and linking their arms back together; smiling shyly whilst trying to avoid prolonged eye contact. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s real nice out here. We should bring the girls out for a trip or somethin’ one day.” Misty suggested, quickly rushing to lick a drop of ice cream that was making its way down the side of her cone. Cordelia shouldn’t have been so enraptured by such a simple act, but she felt she’d never be able to look at strawberry ice cream the same. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Maybe.” Was the only answer she could offer, absentminded. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was almost romantic. The sunlight slanting through the trees and highlighting parts of Misty’s face, both walking at a leisurely stroll, bodies close despite the heat. The only thing that’d top it off would be a mariachi band following them.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It felt comfortable. Like something she could get used to. She had the urge to curl her hand around the woman’s bicep, but the tiny, blue spoon in her hand was stopping her, a reminder that she should’ve just bought a cone (even if she hated the taste). </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Cordelia?” Misty’s voice was soft, a slight crack in her throat as Cordelia looked up to see her focusing on her ice cream.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hm?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2">“I just, uh- I wanted to say thank you,” Cordelia was just about to ask her what for, assuming she meant the museum, or the ice cream, or the whole trip, but she continued, “For last night.”</p>
<p class="p2">Their eyes met, Cordelia’s holding sincerity and concern, brows furrowed slightly. “Of course, Misty. You don’t have anything to thank me for.”</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I do. I’m used to wakin’ up alone, not knowin’ what’s real and what’s not sometimes. But as soon as I saw ya, I knew I couldn’t be in hell.” It felt weighted. An admission beneath an admission, like her words meant something more than what might’ve been interpreted on surface level. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"><span class="s1">Perhaps that was her wishful thinking. Searching for things that weren’t there, looking for something from Misty that wasn’t being given. It was just a </span> <span class="s2"> <em>thank you. </em></span><span class="s1">She was just alone and scared most nights, so by Cordelia being there, she had a </span> <em> <span class="s2">friend</span> </em> <span class="s1"> to help. It didn’t mean anything that the idea of </span> <span class="s2">her</span> <span class="s1"> being in Misty’s hell sounded ludicrous to the Cajun.</span></p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m glad I could help,” She said, tapping her spoon against her pot, considering what else she could say. Frankly, she was still processing what the witch had said. “You can always come to me if you have nightmares. After this.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It wasn’t meant to sound like a hurdle they were trying to jump over. Something they just had to get past, but Misty’s face scrunched up into something that resembled a frown and it was already too late to backtrack. “Thanks.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I mean- even once we’re not sharing a bed, you can come to see me if you’re scared,” Cordelia pressed, dropping the spoon in her pot and doing what she’d been wanting to do for a while; wrapping her fingers around her arm. It wasn’t as soft as she was expecting, but she pushed that thought away and focused on Misty’s face. “I’m glad we’re doing this. It’s been nice. I don’t feel so alone.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Communication, she knew, was vital. That might’ve been where she’d failed with Hank (or maybe that’s just because he married her with the intention of killing her). So, if Misty was trying with her, she knew she had to try back.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m glad we are too.” She smiled then, unlinking their arms to press her hand into Cordelia’s with a squeeze. “I mean, so far I’ve gotten a museum visit and an ice cream out of it. I can’t really complain.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2">“You dork,” She laughed, unclasping their hands to shove at her shoulder.</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When her arm fell back to her side and Misty moved closer again, she brushed her pinky against the Cajun’s and accepted her hand with a light squeeze, smiling as the sun seemed to shine from Misty’s eyes. Water reflecting the light.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I really sat there and quoted supercorp twice, huh. Also I quote “Variations On The Word Sleep” by Margaret Atwood with the whole “the boat to row her back” when Misty was having a nightmare x</p>
<p>If you guys have any questions or just wanna chat I have an ahs insta @ahswomen where I post shitty video edits because I love to avoid doing things I actually need to do 👉👈</p>
<p>also, uh...listen to chromatica? felt like I should add that.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. That Unnoticed and That Necessary</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It felt real, the flirting, the conversation, the setting; it felt like a real date between a real couple. </p><p>It had Cordelia’s chest tightening, and not in the way it did after Misty shot her a dazzling smile, but the sort that was filled with dread and just on the preface of heartbreak.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hey...hey...how y’all doin? I know it’s been forever pls don’t hate me. I don’t know if it’s one specific thing, just a mix of having stuff to do and a lack of motivation/inspiration etc etc, but I finally managed to finish this chapter :))</p><p>my entire thought process for the lighting throughout this whole story was either warm + intimate or bright and sunny if y’all haven’t noticed (you might in this chapter and then the next).</p><p>tw//harassment  - it’s nothing drastic but thought I’d put this here just in case.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><br/>Cordelia lay on her back, twirling a strand of Misty’s hair around her finger as the witch hummed along to a song. She felt like she could get used to this; Misty’s head so close that their hair lay mixed up in a mess of blonde, arms touching. Even the light from her phone highlighting them both. She held her book in one had, slumping where it’d been forgotten as she watched the Cajun scroll through an app named after something about clocks. </span>
</p><p class="p2">Her attention had initially been stolen by a cat video that Misty insisted on her watching, but she’d soon given up on reading in order to watch the silly videos that popped up on the woman’s iPhone. It might’ve been why she’d absentmindedly began carding her fingers through her locks, starting from her scalp down to the ends. Why they’d managed to move closer, sharing quiet laughs over the occasional funny clip and glancing out of the corner of their eyes at one another from time to time.</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Misty’s newly acquired ring, Cordelia’s grandmothers, was glinting off the lamplight as she scrolled, reminding her that she was technically </span> <em> <span class="s2">hers</span></em><span class="s1">, at least legally.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cordelia wouldn’t mind getting used to that idea, either.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She’d been a little shocked when the Supreme had handed it to her almost timidly after dinner, questioning over and over whether it was okay that she have it. It hadn’t been a difficult decision. It was held close to her heart, and so was Misty, so why not piece them together? It looked good on her, a standout to the other rings wrapped tightly around her fingers, a piece of Cordelia displayed in a place that was once thought to be directly linked to the heart. A symbolism of devotion and unity.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Of course, it was only for a week. But Cordelia was thinking of letting her keep it for a while afterwards. A way to transition slowly into normalcy (in other words: an excuse to allow herself to relish in the sight of Misty wearing something so significant to her for longer). </span>
</p><p class="p2">Staring at it now in the little bubble they’d created for themselves in Cordelia’s bed, she allowed herself the simple act of basking in Misty’s warmth and company without ruminating over implications and finding fault in how content she felt.</p><p class="p2">“Are you tired?” Came a whisper to her right after they’d scrolled a little further, passing videos that were supposedly placed there specifically for her based on some algorithm. Cordelia tired to ignore how quite a few were under the tag ‘lesbian’, even if it sent an excited thrum through her fingertips. When she’d yawned for the third time, the Cajun’s thumb had halted halfway between moving to another video.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“A little,” She hushed back, not quite knowing why they were speaking so quietly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Misty turned her head, breath hitting Cordelia’s chin, “You can go to sleep if ya want.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was hard to process the words coming from her mouth when said mouth was so close to her own. When she could feel the light touch of Misty’s hair against her cheek.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Maybe.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Here, you stopped readin’ this a long time ago.” Misty reached for her book, stretching to place it on her own bedside, and looked down at Cordelia with a smile. The action, no matter how small, how simple, had her heart racing in her chest. “You must be tired after all the walkin’ we did today. Go ta sleep, Delia”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Misty telling her to sleep shouldn’t have had any sort of effect on her, when she thought about it really, but it </span> <em> <span class="s2">did</span></em><span class="s1">. It was like a warmth at the back of her skull, an overwhelming serenity intensified by a light touch to her pillow urging her to get comfortable. Cordelia bit her lip, nodding as she slumped further into the bed.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Good.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Misty moved and fluffed up her own pillows, nearly shaking Cordelia off the bed, before slumping beside her with a little grin.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Goodnight sunshine,” She muttered as she pressed her face into the pillow, an arm getting dangerously close to her waist.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When she woke up with Misty’s arm looped over her middle, small puffs of breath hitting the back of her head, she didn’t fault herself for staying in bed a little longer than usual. For leaning back slightly into the warmth and relishing the way the arm around her tightened and flexed as if to hold her there.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Getting up to start her day had never felt so dull.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It felt a little better when Misty woke up not long after and asked to join her in brushing her teeth in the bathroom “like married couples do”.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I never really did that with Hank,” Cordelia spoke around her toothbrush, voice muffled by foam.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah? Well he was a lousy husband,” She shrugged, grazing her pinky against Cordelia’s where their hands rested close together on the bathroom counter. “I’m showin’ ya what a marriage should really be like.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Cleaning our teeth together?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, the simple things.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“When did you become an expert on what a marriage should really be like?” She raised her eyebrows, their eyes meeting in the mirror.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know how to love proper. I know enough about bad marriages to know what a good one should look like.” Misty was serious, despite the teasing tone in Cordelia’s voice, fixing her with an intense stare.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m not sure I know how to love properly.” Cordelia looked down at the plug, flipping on the tap as she finished brushing her teeth so she could rinse off her toothbrush. Misty brushed for a little longer, hip resting against the sink.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re doin’ just fine, Cordelia. You love deeper than anybody I’ve met in my life.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She’d spent the rest of the day trying to distract herself from thinking over that bathroom conversation. It hadn’t entirely worked out, considering she zoned out when talking to people and during lessons, thinking of Misty more often than not. It was stupid - how much she thought of her. Myrtle would probably suggest she do something about it, all for the benefit of the coven, considering a distracted Supreme probably wasn’t good for them. But Cordelia didn’t think it’d make a difference. Misty seemed like a permanent part of her thoughts, a spot saved solely for her somewhere in her brain. </span>
</p><p class="p2">When Misty appeared at the door of her office that evening, looking slightly flustered as if she’d ran to her quickly, struck by some sort of inspiration, Cordelia wondered whether or not she was still lost in thought and she was merely imagining the Cajun, looking like some sort of angel with the hallway lights highlighting the blonde of her hair.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re not to busy, are ya?” She asked, a little breathless.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, I was just about to head downstairs to see if you wanted to go to the greenhouse,” Cordelia said, straightening the pens on her desk and switching off her computer.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ve got a better idea. Get a thin jacket and some open shoes and meet me at the gate. I just gotta get somethin’.” Misty left as quickly as she’d arrived, leaving the Supreme slightly dumbfounded where she sat.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She complied despite her confusion, straightening the stuff on her desk and drinking half a glass of water, before slipping on some sandals and a jacket she hadn’t touched since fall. She found Zoe in the living room and told her to hold down the fort, earning a questioning look but no verbal questions. Cordelia liked that about Zoe, how she held a silent curiosity, but never pushed too far. </span>
</p><p class="p2">Misty was sitting against the wall when she walked out the door, a bag slung over her shoulder, the strap reaching diagonally across her stomach. She waved when Cordelia got closer, a bright smile taking over her features.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Where are we going?” She questioned as Misty looped their arms together and started walking down the path that lead out of their street.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s a surprise.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">The heat from the day lingered in the air, close, but there was a slight breeze coming in from the west that made it feel a little lighter. </span>More bearable. Misty was humming something under her breath, probably Fleetwood Mac, dress brushing against Cordelia’s calf every now and then.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The silence was welcome. A reprieve from the chaos that seemed to buzz around them at the school. Especially the buzz of magic that never seemed to quieten. Now, she could just feel Misty’s, a steady anchor, calm, not overwhelming but more...more like a serene expanse of open ocean, but the warm kind, somewhere in the Mediterranean or tropics.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They walked through the city, the traffic calmer than when they’d taken a trip to the museum, streets a little emptier. It wasn’t quite dark, the sun still just over the horizon, hints of orange starting to bleed through the blue, but you might’ve thought it was midnight with the stillness of everything.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You okay?” Misty’s voice was as quiet and gentle as the atmosphere around them, eyes watching her carefully. Cordelia held them for a while, silently thanking her for taking them away from everything for a little while.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes. Of course.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was obvious where they were headed once they got close, the buildings petering out to stores with donut floats and lilos. A sun bed renting shack close by, the sea just ahead of them. Cordelia smiled, eyes shining as she saw Misty’s proud little grin, hands tucked behind her back waiting for a response. She just wrapped her arms around her in a sideways hug, limbs locking a little awkwardly, but tight enough to show her appreciation.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They neared a path that led to the sand, and Cordelia followed suit as Misty started taking off her shoes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There were a few dog walkers still out, a couple groups just clearing up; brushing sand from towels and disposing of barbecues. There was the distant sound of music, the smell of lingering smoke and charred food, a hint of salt in the air. Cordelia breathed it all in with a content sigh. </span>
</p><p class="p2">“What made you think to bring me here?” She asked as they began walking down to the sand, the path steep enough that she had to grip onto Misty’s arm with her free hand to make sure she didn’t slip. It looked like it’d be harder to walk up.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The tide was in quite far, so there wasn’t an awful lot of beach for them to go length wise, but it spread out far down the coast, a nice path to take for a walk she was sure.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I dunno. I didn’t go to the beach an awful lot as a child, and I don’t imagine you did either.” Cordelia raised her eyebrows, but nodded, remembering the limited chance she got to go anywhere particularly fun with Fiona as a mother. “I thought it’d be nice. It’s quieter in the evenin’, and there’s something jus’ right about being on the beach when the sun isn’t up high in the sky. Like, I dunno. I like the atmosphere. It’s calmin’. Reminds me a bit of the swamp.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She got it, understood Misty even, no matter how much she stumbled to find the right way to describe it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cordelia’s toes curled in the cool sand when they reached level ground, feet sinking with the movement. Misty took her hand loosely, shoes swaying in the other as she dragged her towards the shoreline without a moments hesitation.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They placed their shoes and Misty’s bag down not far from the sea, and Cordelia barely had any time to bask in the scenery before the Cajun was urging her towards the foamy waves.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She screeched as the first lap of water made its way passed her toes and over the tops of her feet, foaming up just behind them. Misty cackled beside her, jumping up at the cold touch and splashing water up Cordelia’s legs. “Misty!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sorry.” She didn’t sound the least bit apologetic, biting her lip to hold back an amused smile.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’ll give me hypothermia.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Don’t be dramatic, Cordelia, it’s springtime.” She rolled her eyes, following the tide as it moved back down the sand. “The water ain’t even </span> <em> <span class="s2">that</span> </em> <span class="s1"> cold.”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cordelia followed after her a little hesitantly, sand squelching as she moved. “You’re the one that tried to jump away from it!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re the one that screamed when it touched your little piggies!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fine.” As another wave moved back towards them, Cordelia flicked her foot in Misty’s direction, sending a splash in its wake. The Cajun cried out as it spread up passed her knees and onto the edge of her dress. </span>
</p><p class="p2">“You little shit!” Before she could retaliate, Cordelia quickly ran away from the shore, droplets of water splashing up her calves as she turned her head towards Misty to see her following. She was trying to frown or scowl or a mixture of the two, chasing after a laughing Cordelia, but there was a smile tugging at her lips. “Get back here!”</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It didn’t take her long to catch up, clearly the more athletic out of the two of them, and before Cordelia knew it she was being tackled to the ground, sandwiched between Misty’s arms and torso.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Misty, what in the hell,” She grunted, trying to push the weight on top of her off as she was pressed into the wet sand. When her efforts were met with barely any struggle from Misty to hold her down, she stopped, looking up through the curls that were shrouding them to a mischievous blue glint.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You ain’t gettin’ away that easy, missy,” Triumphant voice complimented with a victorious grin, Misty’s cockiness was, dare she say it, attractive. “Who knew I’d have the Supreme underneath me?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And there. She’d simultaneously ruined the moment and sent a shock of arousal right down to Cordelia’s lower tummy.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, don’t be so crude and get off,” She pushed at her shoulder to hide how flustered she’d gotten within seconds, “Something’s digging into my back.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Probably a crab.” Misty jumped to her feet, holding both hands out for Cordelia with an easy smile.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Or just a pebble.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She brushed the sand off as best as she could, holding back a smile as Misty swept some off her shoulder for her, picking grains from her hair.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The pebble lie pressed into the sand, and Cordelia kicked it away with the tip of her toe as if it’d offended her.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You ain’t a murderer then.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I was merely the weapon. That death would’ve been on your hands.” She reminded, watching as Misty bent down to pick up a thin rock, throwing it towards the water. It bounced three times before sinking.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s mine is yours,” She shrugged, brushing her hands together to get rid of the sand.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Touché.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They eventually made their way back up to their stuff, Misty stopping her from sitting down so she could spread out a blanket (despite being covered in sand already). Cordelia appreciated the thought, smiling even more when she handed her a wine glass and pulled out a bottle of white, like Mary Poppins with her endless bag, grinning with a, “It felt like a white wine kinda situation.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Once Misty had helped brush some of the sand out of her hair more thoroughly, they lay against the blanket, watching the sun set as they sipped on their wine and occasionally flicked sand at one another.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cordelia allowed her eyes to close, feet buried beneath the sand where the blanket wasn’t long enough. Misty was humming again, something that sounded a little bit like Landslide.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Everything felt...serene. The sound of the sea brushing against the shore along with the birds squawking overhead, and Misty’s quiet melody. It felt like the junction between spring and summer, where heat starts to creep in and the flowers are fully bloomed. Cordelia could feel the Cajun’s magic practically buzzing beside her, drifting up into the air as if to mingle with the clouds.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cordelia allowed the thought that she’d be happy if this was a constant thing linger in her mind just a little longer than usual in her relaxed state.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Let’s go for a swim.” Misty suggested once the sun had mostly set, jumping to her feet and trying to help Cordelia up.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The Supreme just snorted, brushing her hands away. “No, that’s ridiculous. It’s already getting chilly.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Come on, I’ll keep ya warm,” She nodded enthusiastically, grabbing at her arm.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“I am </span> <em> <span class="s2">not</span> </em> <span class="s1"> going in there.”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was a moment where they stared at one another, neither one willing to relent.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Your loss,” Misty shrugged eventually and ran off to the sea, not stopping till it was up to her hips, yelling about the cold.</span>
</p><p class="p2">After a while she trudged back dripping wet and shivering and Cordelia gave her a look that said “I told you so”, but still took off her jacket, draping it around Misty’s shoulders. When the shivers weren’t thwarted, despite Misty’s happy grin, she got up off the blanket and added that to the mix.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We still have to walk back, you know?” Cordelia tried to conceal her amusement, but it was a losing game.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh well.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When they were beneath the covers again that night, a hint of salt in the air despite their respective showers, Cordelia found she couldn’t quite wipe the smile from her face. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><br/>They found out they couldn’t do a lot of the stuff they’d planned, what with teaching a whole lot of witches and all the responsibilities that came with it, but Cordelia enjoyed the small moments. The ones where Misty would bring her lunch or they’d take a walk in the evening. It didn’t matter if most of the stuff they’d put down on their imaginary list, one Cordelia insisted they didn’t need, but were both secretly naming in their heads, wasn’t ticked off. Because mostly, she just wanted to spend time with Misty.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yoga or movie nights probably would’ve distracted themselves from each other. It was nicer just to sit together, talking and eating.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It didn’t come as a surprise to her when Misty knocked on her office door one night as she was finishing up grading some work last minute (what she would’ve finished earlier if the Cajun wasn’t so insistent that they make some sort of whipped coffee she saw online).</span>
</p><p class="p2">“Wanna bake?” Was all she said in greeting, legs crossed over at the ankles as she leant casually against the doorframe. Cordelia forgot why she was in her office for a moment.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Come on, I got us some ingredients.” Misty led her by the hand towards the kitchen, tugging gently in her excitement.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So that’s where you went off to this afternoon?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Maybe,” She smiled cheekily over her shoulder, rounding the kitchen island and gesturing towards the assortment of ingredients she had laid out for them. “What, were you missin’ me?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Maybe,” Cordelia echoed, shrugging.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Cool.” She tapped her fingers against the marble, rocking back on forth on her heels.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So...what are we making?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Right,” She suddenly lit up in excitement, dragging Cordelia closer to where everything was set up, “I couldn’t decide between cupcakes, cookies, some complicated pastry thing or just a big ol’ cake. So, I guess it’s up to you, we have the ingredients for them all.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I have to decide?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah. You’re the Supreme of bakin’, so your decision.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cordelia couldn’t find it within herself to argue with that, not with the way Misty was smiling at her all full of hope. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The cupcakes they made were mediocre at best, but Misty loved them, so they served them for dessert the next day after her insistence that they make more batches. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When Misty got flour on her nose, Cordelia had to physically restrain herself from kissing her senseless. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Then there was the agreement of playing that stupid little game. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Are you seriously making me play Sims with you right now?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I am. Don’t be a bore, Delia,” Misty had barged her way into her office, something that Cordelia didn’t even blink at anymore, pulling the chair opposite her desk around it so that it aligned with Cordelia’s. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Replace Delia with Cordy and you sound exactly like Madison,” She snorted, trying to clear away the papers in front of her so the laptop in Misty’s hands could be placed there. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey! Don’t compare me to that bitch.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Misty, she’s apart of our council,” Cordelia reprimanded, an empty rebuke. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Am I wrong?” At Cordelia’s silence she grinned triumphantly, “That’s what I thought. Now, scoot over and let’s make babies.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You better lock the door behind you, then,” Winking playfully, she nudged her chair over. </span>
</p><p class="p2">“Don’t be silly.” Misty blushed anyway, focusing on booting up the game to avoid the Supreme’s eyes.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Who’s laptop have you stolen?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t know. One of the younger girls.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Did you ask if you could borrow it?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, I forgot that part.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“</span> <em> <span class="s2">Misty</span> </em> <span class="s1">.”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That’s how their gaming experience went mostly. Quiet arguments between them, more like slight disagreements, as they tried to navigate the little world. The characters had already been created for them, courtesy of Misty and Madison, much to Cordelia’s annoyance. “Why am I wearing that? Also, my nose isn’t that big.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’d all been mildly manageable, with the occasionally bout of awkwardness when they made their characters flirt to establish a relationship that allowed them to adopt. Then, “Whats woohoo?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m not sure,” Cordelia narrowed her eyes at the screen, before a vague recollection of Madison mentioning it to them as she passed the office struck her. “Wait, Mis-“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What?” She’d clicked the button before she could object, watching as their characters made their way over to the bed together, before engaging in what could only be described as a wrestling match. “Oops.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cordelia felt utterly ridiculous for blushing. They were adults, for goodness sake.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I mean, we are having a baby together,” Misty shrugged, and then they were laughing.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The arcade was much less awkward. Misty getting excited about pac man and winning tickets so they could get a prize at the end. They didn’t spend long there, and could only afford two little candy pieces, one for each of them, but Misty was delighted either way.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">That same night they skipped dinner with everybody else and cooked something together a little later. It was achingly romantic, almost </span> <em> <span class="s2">too</span> </em> <span class="s1"> romantic, and the only thing grounding her was the thought of courtrooms and the legality of annulments.</span></p><p class="p2"><span class="s1">It just became more dreary as the moments went by. </span> <em> <span class="s2">She</span> </em> <span class="s1"> became more miserable. Everything they did was a reminder that they were ticking off more things from their list, and evidently getting closer to their last activity. She was the one that told Misty it didn’t matter about a stupid list of things they should do, that they could do the same things afterwards, but it wasn’t the same. They’d no longer be married. There would no longer be an excuse for holding hands or standing so close together or sharing a bed or...the list went on, and so did Cordelia’s bitter mood.</span></p><p class="p2">If Misty felt a shift, she didn’t mention it. Perhaps she too was preoccupied with thoughts of their impending split. Maybe she was nervous about the court hearing, of what it meant for their friendship afterwards. Cordelia would never know, because what they didn’t often do was talk about how they were feeling about this whole thing. That might’ve been a fault of her own, choosing mostly to run away from any sign of open discussion.</p><p class="p2">The time together slipped away until they were getting ready for their dinner, something they’d planned to be two days before the court hearing, to give them the day after to relax and maybe spend some time outdoors. Like a finality.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Then the annulment would be officiated in no time at all.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do ya like it?” Misty twirled, holding the edge of her dress between her fingertips, smiling widely at herself in the mirror. “It’s a bit different. Zoe helped me pick it out.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Cordelia stood in the doorway and felt the urge to wrap her arms about her waist, lean her head on her shoulder so they could admire it together in the mirror. Admire themselves together. Instead, she walked forwards and placed a palm on Misty’s shoulder. They weren’t </span> <em> <span class="s2">really</span> </em> <span class="s1"> married.</span></p><p class="p2"><span class="s1">“It’s beautiful, Misty. You look lovely,” She complimented, smiling as the girl’s cheeks turned a little pink. The dress hugged her tightly at the chest and became a little looser where it reached about mid thigh, but not as loose as most of the dresses she wore, showing off </span> <em> <span class="s2">lots</span> </em> <span class="s1"> of things Cordelia’s eyes were drawn to. More noticeably her toned arms and legs, which were often covered in long fabrics, and...though she hated to admit it, her ass. “Did you buy it just for this...meal?”</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">She tried to recover from the fact she’d almost called the night ahead a date without drawing too much attention to her flustering. She already felt flustered enough seeing Misty all dressed up. For her, dressed up </span> <em> <span class="s2">for her</span><span class="s1">.</span> </em></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah. I thought my stuff wasn’t fancy enough,” She shrugged, running her hands over the fabric. She turned a little more serious then. “Gotta do this right.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It touched her, to think Misty had put so much thought into this. But she didn’t want the girl to think she had to impress her, to step out of her comfort zone just to live up to some preconceived notions of how women should dress for dates and dinners.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Any of your dresses would’ve been perfect. You don’t have to change yourself in any relationship, marriage or not, remember that whenever you find somebody you love.” Their eyes met in the mirror, something passing between them, Misty’s holding appreciation and warmth, but something else. An intensity. </span>
</p><p class="p2">“Thanks, Delia.” She turned towards her, squeezing her arms appreciatively, before she got a real look at the Supreme. Cordelia felt a blush rising on her cheeks as Misty looked her up and down, eyes lighting up. “Now, don’t you look pretty?”</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Where Misty had gone to Zoe, a </span> <span class="s2">much</span> <span class="s1"> safer bet, Cordelia had gone to Madison. It felt a little like swallowing her pride, but she’d been surprisingly excited about it all, picking out dresses Cordelia would look </span> <em><span class="s2">so</span> </em> <span class="s2"><em>hot, Misty’s eyes would roll back into her head</em>, </span> <span class="s1">in. She didn’t have the energy to deny that’s what she wanted. It took a while to find something they both agreed on that was in her own closet, but they’d gotten there. She thanked Madison silently when the Cajun’s eyes seemed to stay on her figure for a few beats too long, where the dress pulled tightly to her waist and high up on her legs. Cordelia lit up under the attention, body responding with goosebumps as the grip on her arms got tighter.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thank you,” She managed, ears feeling red hot.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When Misty seemed to shake herself out of it, she met Cordelia’s eyes with a bashful bite of her lip, a recognition that she’d been blatantly staring at her. The supreme tried not to dwell on it, already turning away from the mirror to strap on her heels. Misty watched her, looking like she had something to say.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They finished getting ready in a somewhat tense silence, the only thing shared between them brief glances that were ended as soon as their eyes met.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was only when Misty leant close to the mirror, coating her lips in layer of lip gloss, that Cordelia really stopped to watch her. To watch the delicate way she spread the brush over her skin, the way it stuck there, shiny and reflective.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She stepped back, wiping at the glass where her breath had misted, only to notice the Supreme’s piqued attention. “What, did I get some on my face?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No. You just look pretty.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Her cheeks noticeably reddened. “Thanks, Delia. So do you, as always,” She ducked her head bashfully.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Making their way downstairs, they paused as Cordelia slipped on a jacket, standing near the doorway a little too close together.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Aren’t you wearing your shawl?” She asked to fill the silence, brushing some dust away that seemed to be drawn to her dress. </span>
</p><p class="p2">“I thought I’d leave it behind for tonight.”</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Her eyes zeroed in on Misty’s arms and shoulders, more defined than she’d ever imagined with the brief glances she’d gotten from time to time. Cordelia was in for one hell of a night.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They walked to the restaurant, the air cool and still enough as to not break a sweat or mess with their hair. Misty kept close but far enough away that their hands didn’t brush as they moved, safe.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was quiet, the streets mostly deserted save for a few cars, and the sun wasn’t quite setting but slanting in a way that highlighted the sharp points of Misty’s features. Cordelia thought she looked a little bit like a painting. Not altogether realistic, but also abstract. </span>
</p><p class="p2"><span class="s1">They’d chosen the restaurant together, somewhere not too fancy but intimate. Probably too intimate. Fifth date or wedding anniversary intimate. Misty had been drawn to the quaintness, Cordelia the lighting. Like firelight. It felt like a necessity to see Misty beneath it. As they neared their destination, however, she thought it might’ve been a little too much, but a hand was reaching for her own and she was reminded that it was </span> <em> <span class="s2">just </span></em><span class="s1">Misty. It didn’t matter where they ate, Cordelia would still harbour the same feelings she did for the witch, fire light or not.</span></p><p class="p2">“M’lady,” Misty dipped into a bow as she held out a chair for Cordelia after they’d been led to a table close to back corner, charming grin on her face that bordered on cheeky.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The lighting was as intimate as she’d thought it would be, all warm colours that highlighted Misty’s pale complexion and gave her hair a golden hue. She seemed relaxed, watching Cordelia over her menu once they’d settled. The sight had her a little breathless.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A waiter neared their table asking for drinks, specifically wine, and Misty looked up, expectant, “You know more about wine than me.” </span>
</p><p class="p2">When their red arrived, Cordelia poured each of them a generous amount, trying to ignore that the Cajun was blatantly staring, instead reading the label on the bottle and fidgeting with her glass. She was sure that if they maintained eye contact, she’d spill every emotion and thought she’d been feeling towards Misty the entire week and the weeks before that.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was a soft piano melody spreading out across the room, it sounded live, probably tucked away in a nice little corner. Classical. Mozart maybe, or Chopin, Cordelia couldn’t really decipher between them, even if she found classical music relaxing.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When Misty’s gaze didn’t let up, she decided she’d face her head on, and as the song transitioned into something softer, their eyes met. She didn’t shy away, ducking her head bashfully like she might’ve at the start of the week, and neither did she look to the carpet like she hadn’t been staring. Instead, she reached out for her wine, finger brushing against Cordelia’s arm where it lay against the table, and took a sip, watching her over the rim of the glass. She placed it down in the exact same spot, skin brushing against skin, air static with heightened magic.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">If there was ever a moment to come clean about her emotions, it was then. But the seconds passed and so did the moment, broken by the waiter approaching their table requesting orders.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Their food didn’t take long, and they filled the time waiting with mindless chatter, the sort of stuff they talked about in the greenhouse or relaxing in the living room or beneath the blankets at night, when it hadn’t quite gotten to the time that warranted something deeper. It only enforced the idea that she didn’t need some fancy restaurant, didn’t need anything beyond Misty’s company to feel the things she felt towards her. To enjoy their time together.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Despite the setting, Misty was as lighthearted as usual; silly statements that made Cordelia laugh, soft smiles and the occasional charming comment that had her ducking her head. </span>
</p><p class="p2"><span class="s1">She offered up forkfuls of her vegetarian dish, something Italian, refilled Cordelia’s wine when she’d drained her glass and gave the Supreme her undivided attention throughout the course of their meal. She’d even called her Mrs Day a minimum of three times. That, along with her offer for them to share a dessert, made the situation they were in all the more surreal. Blurring the line even more. It felt </span> <em> <span class="s2">real</span></em><span class="s1">, the flirting, the conversation, the setting; it felt like a real date between a real couple.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It had Cordelia’s chest tightening, and not in the way it did after Misty shot her a dazzling smile, but the sort that was filled with dread and just on the preface of heartbreak.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">From then on, the lighting didn’t seem so warm, and her food had a bitter aftertaste, despite how sweet the chocolate dish was.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Only when Misty left for the restroom did Cordelia feel like she could breathe properly. It gave her the chance to collect herself and reign in whatever feelings she’d managed to let stray out of their tightly shut boxes. </span>
</p><p class="p2">Just as she’d began to relax again and appreciate the position she was in, at a fancy restaurant with the woman she was interested in (and married to, but semantics) flirting with her across the table, a person approached the table, staring down at her with an unsettling grin.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, sweetheart. You plannin’ on finishin’ that wine all by ya self?” The man had a south Louisiana accent, thick and harsh sounding. It wasn’t warm and melodic like Misty’s.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, my date is in the restroom,” She responded quickly, drawing her arms into her chest defensively. It should’ve been enough to get him to back off, but he was taking his place in Misty’s seat and leaning over the table to get closer.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“A shame. That’s probably his escape.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Excuse me?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ain’t ya ever had a date bail on ya by goin’ to the john?” He scoffed, grabbing for Cordelia’s wine glass and taking a sip right where there was a light lipstick stain.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It had her recoiling, face scrunching up into a grimace. “No, I don’t believe I have.” </span>
</p><p class="p2">“I can believe that. You’re sexy as fuck.” When he started reaching across the table as if to grab her in some form, she felt a little helpless. It was shock, mostly, she had no idea where he’d come from or how this was continuing on with nobody noticing, but she was frozen in place as he moved closer. “That body looks fuckin’ ama-“</p><p class="p2">“Excuse me.” Then there was Misty, mouth a hard line, turned down at the sides as she gripped the mans shoulder and yanked him back in the seat. The tone in her voice reminded her of when she’d punched Madison,  only worse, and she was sure the facial expression was similar.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What?” He tried to swat her off like she was the intruder.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s my seat you’re sittin’ in,” She snarled at him, the angriest Cordelia had ever seen her (and Madison could get her pretty riled up from time to time). “And my wife you’re disrespectin’.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“So that explains it? You’re a fuckin’ lesbian.” The volume had attracted some of the diners, and there were a couple waiters making their way over. She barely had time to register Misty standing up for her, calling Cordelia her </span> <em> <span class="s2">wife</span> </em> <span class="s1"> to somebody that wasn’t the close circle of people who knew it was just a drunken mistake, before there was chaos.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’d suggest that you leave. Now.” Misty was grabbing him by the jacket, yanking him onto his feet as he pushed her away with a force that had her stumbling back.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It might’ve deteriorated, she could see the rage on the mans face, the way his fists had balled up, and Misty didn’t look any less furious, if not more. But there was a waiter stepping between them and signalling for him to step back, and he relented, arms rising in the air. “Alright, alright.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He was escorted from the building by a couple security guards, and the restaurant seemed to have stopped to watch the entire interaction. The manager came out as Misty took her place by Cordelia’s side, placing an assuring palm against her back, apologising profusely and offering them free service. She’d initially waved her off but she seemed insistent, stating they had very strict policies on harassment and they could go about pressing charges if she wished.</span>
</p><p class="p2">Cordelia just wanted to go home.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I think we’ll be okay.” Misty assured when Cordelia didn’t make an answer, wrapping up the conversation as quickly as possible.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She knelt by her side, hands grasping Cordelia’s own as she searched for her eyes. “Are you okay?” The concern brimming in those pools of blue, like tears at the surface, had her swallowing down a thousand declarations.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I think so.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Are ya sure?” The people around them seemed to return to what they were doing, and the restaurant filled again with the sound of talk and cutlery against china. The waiters were taking away their empty plates and glasses, replacing them and the still half full bottle of wine for a newer one, and here Misty was, on her knees before her with an overwhelming regard for her wellbeing.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah. That was kinda hot,” She joked (though it was painfully honest) earning a shocked laugh and a shake of the head from Misty. She looked down at the floor, a little embarrassed. “No, really. Thank you, Misty. My knight in shining armour.” </span>
</p><p class="p2">She took her cheek in her hand, brushing a thumb against her skin, revelling in the way the Cajun leant into the touch.</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“I’m sure you woulda been fine by ya’self. Miss </span> <em> <span class="s2">Supreme</span></em><span class="s1">,” She grinned, before her face turned serious again, “You just looked a little shocked, and I couldn’t have him talkin’ to you like that.”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Looking at Misty now, shoulders tense, frowning like she’d been personally attacked, Cordelia thought this might’ve been the most anybody had cared about her. Without motive or hesitance, just a raw concern, honest and filled with respect. It was overwhelming.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Misty was overwhelming. Everything about her. Her enthusiasm for life and nature and animals. Her childlike awe, what some would call naive but Cordelia recognised as just inspiration and wonder at everything she soaked up and saw. Her protectiveness and love for the coven. For Cordelia, even. Her eyes, staring right into her own, searching for any weakness or vulnerability so she could use her magic hands to heal and make right. The stirring in her chest was the strongest it’d ever been.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Suggesting they take advantage of the free service, a lousy excuse to avoid the depth of the situation and the urge to kiss her senseless, she shooed Misty back to her seat and poured their wine in fresh glasses, not missing the way the woman was still watching her carefully, like she was a bird with an injured wing.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">In a bold move that surprised the both of them, she located Misty’s leg with the point of her heel, and ran the top of her foot over her calf. Wide eyes snapped to hers instantly as her foot tracked back down. At first, she’d meant it as a thank you (a strange expression of gratitude when she thought about it), but as she took a sip of her wine much like Misty had earlier, maintaining eye contact, it felt like something more.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Misty looked like she was going to say something, hand inching closer to hers, but then she seemed to stop herself, arm retracting beneath the table as she looked down into her lap. </span>
</p><p class="p2">There was a beat of silence that passed between them, before Cordelia sighed loudly, taking a large sip of her wine. “I can’t believe I froze.”</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When she looked up again, she was smiling sadly, playing with the edge of the table cloth. “Cordelia, it’s okay to need help sometimes.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know,” She nodded swiftly, damnit she knew how important accepting help was, she couldn’t have become the Supreme without Myrtle’s guidance. “It’s just, you stepped in without any hesitance, even though you were half his size. I don’t even think Hank would’ve; and he was my husband.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, I am your wife,” She reminded, “And I hope I’ve been better than his lousy ass, sorry to disrespect the dead.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“By far, Misty Day.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The rest of their dinner had something hanging over it. Perhaps it was the way Misty’s fist had never quite unclenched, and Cordelia’s back was stiff as a board, but they left early without paying a dime, and only once they were outside, the air a little less stifling, did she relax a little. Misty didn’t seem so alert and receptive to any sort of discomfort Cordelia showed as she basked in the nature they passed, so she liked to think maybe she did too.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They got back at about eleven, their voices hushed as they tried to prevent making noise, but ended up giggling quietly as Cordelia dropped her purse in her tipsy haze, and then Misty let her shoes clatter against the radiator near the door. </span>
</p><p class="p2">“Shhh,” Cordelia hushed, placing a finger against Misty’s lips, and then suddenly the Cajun wasn’t laughing. What a technique. Maybe she’d accidentally used her mind controlling powers.</p><p class="p2">The council, along with Coco and Mallory, made themselves scarce when they greeted them, sat around chatting over a bottle of scotch. Cordelia thought Zoe had something to do with that, by the way they all dispersed without much of a comment. Not even a jibe from Madison.</p><p class="p2">Making her way quietly around the kitchen, she poured two glasses of wine, thinking they should make the most of the quiet; everybody tucked up nicely in bed. Misty was lighting the fire when she made it to the living area, crouching down, hair steadily bathed in orange light. It felt domestic, especially when she looked over her shoulder with a grin, patted her lap as she stood and settled beside Cordelia.</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">She watched Misty, warm light dancing across her face and reflecting in her eyes </span>from the fire. They were slightly murky from drink, more unabashed in their tipsy state as they raked over her form, taking in the way the Supreme’s legs were tucked beneath her. <span class="s1">She looked so </span><em><span class="s2">relaxed</span></em><span class="s1">. Hair somehow wilder than usual, cheeks tinted pink, arm over the back of the sofa; her hand centimetres away from brushing against Cordelia’s shoulder.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">It was almost intimate. The way they managed to sit with space between them, and yet it seemed they were competing with who could get the closest without </span> <em> <span class="s2">actually</span> </em> <span class="s1"> touching one another. The eye contact, Misty’s stare intense, imploring, like she was searching for something in Cordelia’s eyes - an answer, permission. The lighting. Everything down to the way Misty’s lips were parted slightly from a recent sip of wine, the colour of the drink left behind where she hadn’t licked it away yet. She’d never wanted to kiss somebody so bad. When her tongue poked out momentarily, taking away the taste of red with it as it slipped away between her lips, Cordelia wanted to follow it with her own.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">The drink must’ve been clouding her judgement, because she felt herself leaning slightly closer, shifting just to the left so that her bare thigh where her dress had ridden up pressed against Misty’s calf. The Cajun followed the movement, eyes lingering on the place where material met skin long enough to be dismissed as just a glance, and taken for something more. That might’ve been her intent, because she looked up through her lashes, lids heavy, and at the same moment brushed a finger over her shoulder. The movement was inconspicuous enough that it could be taken as a mere accident, but the </span> <span class="s2">look</span> <span class="s1"> in Misty’s eyes, Cordelia couldn’t find it in herself to deny what she was seeing, and it looked all too much like </span> <em> <span class="s2">want</span></em><span class="s1">. They’d been dancing around it all night, and right now, it couldn’t be denied. </span></p><p class="p2"><span class="s1">Finding she was barely grasping at the restraint of not mounting Misty’s lap right then and there and kissing her until the fire burned out, she took a sip of wine, glancing off to the flames and hoping to find something there that told her this was </span> <em> <span class="s2">stupid</span></em><span class="s1">. This was crossing a line. A line that’d become too close to resembling a bridge.</span></p><p class="p2">When she heard Misty clearing her throat, she dared to glance back, trying to control the pace of her heart when she found eyes still staring directly at her like they hadn’t moved an inch.</p><p class="p2">“Can I?” She gestured towards the record player across the room, fingers curling up with the incessant desire to be placing a vinyl down and starting it up.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cordelia offered up a slight nod, feeling words would fail her.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The witch seemed to float across the room, movements swift but elegant as she rushed to fill the room with something other than the tension that was simmering between them.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Routing through her records with a content smile, humming along to a song, Misty cheered when she found the one she wanted. Cordelia grinned behind her glass of wine as she displayed the Fleetwood Mac album.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Since we never did it at our weddin’, let’s have our first dance,” Misty smiled cheekily, placing the vinyl on the player and moving the needle carefully until a crackle resonated around the room. A soft piano reached her ears, and she allowed herself to be pulled to her feet despite the empty protests on her tongue, leaving the glass behind in order to be dragged into the middle of the room.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was a terrible idea. One she couldn’t help but find herself swooning over. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Misty pulled her closer as she settled an arm around her waist, a toothy grin leaving Cordelia a little breathless as she wrapped her own arm behind Misty’s neck. Trying to hold onto any semblance of composure left, she gripped onto the other woman’s sleeve as if that would somehow prevent her from getting caught in the riptide. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s2">For you, there’ll be no more crying <br/></span> <span class="s2">For you, the sun will be shining</span> </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cordelia breathed in the closeness, leaning into it further like it was an entity in itself. Resting her head against Misty’s shoulder, she allowed herself to focus on the music, focus on the feel of Misty Day surrounding her completely. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em><span class="s2">And I feel that when I’m with you<br/></span>It’s alright, I know it’s right</em>
</p><p class="p2">She could feel a steady hum of magic where their skin touched; Misty’s fingertips at her elbow, Cordelia’s cheek against the crook between Misty’s neck and shoulder. It crackled between them like a steady fire, growing fiercer, logs thrown into the flames. Wanting it to overcome her completely, she placed a palm against the witch’s chest, feeling the fast thump beneath like a song of its own, sparking the fire further.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Delia.” Misty’s voice came out soft, breath against the top of her head. She felt it more than she heard it, a vibration beneath her palm, beneath her cheek.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mhm?” They continued to sway, feet brushingdelicately against the floor, bodies pressed together. So closely. Almost too closely.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Can you look at me?” </span>
</p><p class="p2">Cordelia could feel a lump growing in her throat, a rising sense of anticipation. It felt like she was on the brink of something significant. Lifting her head she looked into Misty’s gentle eyes, shining beneath the warm lighting, flickering between her own. A warm ocean that threatened to drag her beneath the surface, leave her gasping for air and drowning. Her focus drifted across her face, taking in the shape of her nose, the dimple on her cheek, the curve of her lips.</p><p class="p1">
  <em><span class="s2">And I love you, I love you, I love you<br/></span>Like never before</em>
</p><p class="p2">Inhaling sharply, Cordelia couldn’t draw her attention away from Misty’s intense stare; boring into her soul, like she had the power to read every thought inside her head.</p><p class="p1"><em> <span class="s2">And I wish you all the love in the world<br/></span> </em> <em> <span class="s2">But most of all I wish it from myself</span> </em></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Allowing the song, the feel of Misty, the waves to take over her, Cordelia pushed onto her toes. Tightening the arm wrapped securely around Misty’s neck, leaving the other placed firmly against her chest, she pressed their lips together in a chaste kiss. When she pulled back, breaths like words dancing between them, Misty dragged her back into the current and sealed their lips again, firmer, more assured. </span>
</p><p class="p2"><span class="s1">Cordelia could feel her thoughts slipping away as their mouths moved together like rivers joining to form tributaries, roots to aid the blooming of a pink, spring rose, purple lilacs, peonies beneath the April sun. Misty’s fingers dug into her waist like touching the keys of a piano, playing the melody of a songbird as a hand glided over her spine. Any thoughts had been stolen by Misty’s lips, who held onto them like treasured, family heirlooms, replacing the ones in her brain with </span> <em> <span class="s2">Misty, Misty, Misty.</span> </em></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">An abandoned thought that Fiona could walk into the room and break apart this beautiful moment struck her, but the feel of soft lips against hers, Misty’s lips, reminded her that she was safe. That Misty was here, unharmed, that Fiona was gone. She allowed herself to succumb to the warmth, the rush of magic that passed between them in their embrace, nothing but Misty surrounding her.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When a gentle hand brushed over her cheek, Cordelia paused, feeling a sting behind her eyes as tears began to gather beneath her eyelids. Misty pulled away, chest heaving as she cupped her face between her hands. “Are you okay?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She felt if she were to open them to look into deep blues a dam would break and she’d spoil the moment. Instead, eyes still scrunched tightly together, she pressed her forehead against Misty’s, fingers running up her arms to clutch the ones resting against her cheeks. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“More than.” The words came out choked, breathy. “I just- I haven’t been kissed like that in...” Another lull as their breaths mixed together, a finger brushing against the sharp apple of her cheek. “In a long time. Maybe forever.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cordelia could feel her suck in a sharp breath, close enough to steal some air from her own lungs, the hands cradling her face adding pressure with a newfound intent. “You deserve to be kissed like that all your damn life, Cordelia Goode.” </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Flashing back to the moment she met Misty, where their hands touched and she felt all the loneliness, the isolation of being cast out by her people, being all alone away from society, Cordelia knew she meant it wholeheartedly. Knew what something like this </span> <em> <span class="s2">meant</span> </em> <span class="s1"> to her. She’d do everything in her power to banish that loneliness, if she hadn’t already. To fill it with her presence. Trying to communicate this, she brought them somehow closer, finally opening her eyes to see wide, blue sapphires staring directly at her, brimming with unshed tears, filled with </span> <em> <span class="s2">something</span></em><span class="s1">. It felt like an exchange of thoughts, feelings, declarations; just through a look.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Then kiss me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Their noses bumped together as Misty drew her in with a fierce tug, a contrast to the tender thumb that’d been tracing spells across her skin. It was heated, more passionate, but unrushed. Misty somehow pulled her closer, arm tightening around her waist as she pressed their fronts almost completely together.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was overwhelming; the heat from the fire, the silence of the room that was broken by intermittent sharp breaths, the feel of Misty and her pure magic. </span>
</p><p class="p2">She was calm, and yet frantic. Chest full, yet aching for something more. A paradox of emotions and feelings beyond carnal pleasure, towards something spiritual. Something that intertwined with her magic and tugged at her chest almost painfully.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They separated eventually, foreheads pressed together, Misty’s arms tight around her.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You deserve it too, you know?” She hushed out, Misty’s eyes flickering between her own.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s that?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You deserve to be kissed like that your whole life, and afterwards.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t think I’d want that unless it was comin’ from you.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When they separated, Cordelia rushed to clean up, picking up their glasses, whilst Misty stopped the music. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They didn’t talk about it. They went on with their usual routine, kept apart beneath the covers as if they hadn’t been so close, so consumed by one another. It wasn’t so much a dismissal as a...we both need to think over this before taking the next step. Whatever that step was. Cordelia recognised that when she felt a pinky brush against her forearm, deliberate, along with Misty’s sigh. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m scared, Cordelia.” It was a rare display of vulnerability. Although Misty had opened up after her nightmares, she usually seemed so emotionally put together behind a mask of naivety and a pure love of life. Even after coming back from hell there was still that semblance of control. She supposed being alone for so long, you got used to confiding in yourself. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Perhaps it was easier in the dark, so that Cordelia couldn’t see the true depth of fear in her eyes. She was pretty sure the same would be reflected in her own, a lake reflecting the sky, clustered with clouds, the grey kind that foreshadowed bad weather.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Me too, Misty.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She felt a hand reaching to clutch her own, and made the move to interlace their fingers together.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>they deserve all the cliches so I’m handing them over to them. hope u can fw that &lt;3</p><p>songbird is close to my heart (glee) so I had to include it when we have a Fleetwood Mac lover for a character xo</p><p>hope you’re all doing okay and staying safe!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. You Can Hold On</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It didn’t feel like the preface of some significant event like the last time they were here. It felt like an inevitability.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I wrote this quite a while ago so I’m not sure how good it is?? but I was getting a few comments so I decided to split the next chapter into two. I hope this is okay lmao. Idk I was reading it back and sometimes I’m like, this is kinda cliché, but oh well x</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><br/>They woke the next morning tangled up in one another.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They didn’t talk about it, the same as the night before. Cordelia didn’t need words to express the emotions she was feeling, and she didn’t need them from Misty either. </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Cordelia valued sight above any of her other senses, having lost it before. But it wasn’t just her eyes, it was her second sight. She could see it, </span> <em> <span class="s2">feel</span> </em> <span class="s1"> it, now that the veil of her clouded emotions had been taken away by Misty’s lips, that the Cajun reflected emotions similar to her own. Could tell that the marriage meant more to the </span> <em> <span class="s2">both</span> </em> <span class="s1"> of them than just something to be annulled. She remembered the look of disappointment on Misty’s face when she’d insinuated it was nothing more than a drunken mistake. The look in her eyes, flickering against the firelight.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Misty moved about on her side of the bed, folding up a t-shirt she’d taken out and decided to put back - a domestic image. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Can I take you to my shack?” She said, keeping occupied. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That sounds like a euphemism.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Misty rolled her eyes, resting her hand against the bed as she finally met Cordelia’s eyes.<br/></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, we’ve got one day left till our annulment, and I usually visit the place at least once a month.” She sounded hopeful, eyes earnest. “Why don’t you come with me this time?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cordelia tried to ignore the idea of the annulment, and instead focused, too much, on the invitation. It was simple, really, but it felt more, somehow “Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s not intrudin’ if I’m invitin’ ya, Cordelia,” Misty grinned, teasing almost. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay, I guess we can work that out.” </span>
</p><p class="p2">Just as the greenhouse plants seemed to thrive with Misty’s presence, so did the nature surrounding her shack. The trees seemed to hum, the soil vibrate, the flowers bloomed a little more. The crickets became louder, the bird song brighter; a gentle background noise as she was led through the wilderness and towards Misty’s safe haven.</p><p class="p2">Their trip was short but Cordelia almost wished for more time to soak in the raw freedom that surrounded her. More time to observe Misty in a place where she herself thrived, a plant blooming like the rest of them, only free to wander and move with the wind.</p><p class="p2">When they reached the shack, the same it’d always been; quaint but cosy, intrinsically Misty, she felt a hand grasp her own, a flow of that seamless connection to nature passing through her. “Come on, I wanna show you some of my other Stevie vinyls.”</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Misty lead Cordelia to sit on the edge of her bed, appraising her for a split second with their hands still clasped together before whirling around to find a record. It didn’t take her long, fingers finding it through memory, carefully setting it up and smiling as the first few notes blanketed them. She watched Misty the whole time, entranced by her easy movements, by the way she fit so naturally into this space.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She was sure Misty was going to ask her to dance again. The way she turned towards her, expectant almost, debating the next move with a crinkle between her brows. One half of her ached for it, the other wanted anything but; fearing she’d lose every part of herself to the witch, being so close again. Yet, she didn’t. She trailed over to Cordelia and took a seat beside her, close enough so that their legs and arms were touching, despite all the room.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What are ya thinkin’?” Misty spoke softly, perhaps afraid to break through her thoughts. Afraid to halt then abruptly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That you’ve never looked so at ease.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She smiled at that, eyes crinkling. Cordelia liked them like that. Liked how they sparkled with an unbridled joy. Reflecting everything good and light about the world. Misty’s soul might’ve been the purest, most precious thing. </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">They sat for a while, Misty commenting on different parts of the song, on what went behind it. Cordelia found herself enjoying it. </span> <span class="s1">Enjoying the passion behind the witch’s words, the way she held Stevie Nicks so close to her heart. </span></p><p class="p2">It was only when the second song began playing that she came back to reality, realising she had a guest to please. “So, Mrs Day, what do ya wanna do?”</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cordelia barked out a laugh at the name, shoving her shoulder playfully. It earned her a faux gasp, and an endearing pout that had her giddiness sobering. Clearing her throat, she looked down at her hands, wringing together. “What do you usually do when you’re here?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Listen to Stevie, dance, water my plants, take a walk in nature, go see the croc’s down in the swamp,” She listed off, raising a finger with each new activity. Cordelia focused on the rings that covered them, the simple bands, the more intricate, her grandmothers. She found herself wanting to twist them about, their fingers interlaced. “Or just relax.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We can do whatever you want,” She shrugged, tilting her head to watch Misty mull over the options.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nah, you’re the guest. You get to decide.” </span>
</p><p class="p2">Cordelia decided on relaxing, saying she hadn’t seen a good bit of sun for a while. Misty turned up the volume on the record player so the music drifted through the walls of the shack, leading her outside as her shawl swayed in the light breeze, curls moving with each bouncing step.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They settled on a patch of grass not far from the swamp, the strands of green tickling the backs of her bare legs. It felt comforting, familiar for some unknown reason.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Misty handed her some canned rosé from a cooler she had kept in her shack, the chill settling into her warm palms. She watched as the Cajun contemplated over a can and a bottle of beer, hands settling on the beer and routing around for the bottle opener. The easy way she flipped off the cap and brought the drink to her lips had Cordelia’s mouth going dry. She compensated by taking a sip of her drink. </span>
</p><p class="p2">“So, do ya like it out here?” Misty asked, leaning back onto the palms of her hands, beer resting beside her foot. She reclined her neck, eyes closing as she bathed in the sun, the shadows from the light highlighting the curve of her jaw and the pink of her cheeks in the heat.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s very calming. The solitude is nice,” She spoke, glancing at the emptiness of the space. She saw why it was necessary for Misty to be alone after being targeted, but she remembered the inherent loneliness she’d felt when their hands first touched. Like she believed she was the only person in the world, that there was nobody to look out for her, like she’d never find her tribe. Cordelia hoped she felt she had now.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Not wanting to sour Misty’s mood, she kept those thoughts to herself, instead revelling in the complete tranquility that had taken over the swamp witch.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“I love it out here. With nature so close and the quiet. But I always end up missin’ the academy if I stay too long.” The way Misty’s gaze focused on her when she spoke of the </span> <span class="s2"><em>academy</em>, </span> <span class="s1">it had Cordelia’s mind whirring with thoughts of what she truly meant. Deciding not to focus on that but the knowledge that she wasn’t longing to be here all the time, that Cordelia wasn’t selfish in insisting she stay with the rest of them in the school, she offered up a surprised smile. “It’s just lonely, ya know? I prefer it with you here. It’s like I get to have both.”</span></p><p class="p2">The sentiment wasn’t missed by Cordelia, who inhaled sharply and looked down at her wine, completely touched. “I’ll come here with you more often, if you’d like?”</p><p class="p2">“You’re a busy woman, Cordelia. I can’t expect you to drop everything to come to some shabby shack.” She gave a self depreciating, humourless laugh, reaching for and swirling her beer to occupy her attention.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s lovely out here. It’ll be a nice break from all the chaos,” She insisted, running her hand over the grass, noticing some daisies.</span>
</p><p class="p2">They continued to chat, the sun warming her considerably as she picked some of the little flowers and began linking them together. It was alarming, how natural this felt. The way Misty’s leg brushed passed her own as she moved and stayed resting there. The way her bright smile, brighter under the light, had Cordelia’s heart fluttering in her chest like she had some schoolgirl crush.</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">She found her thoughts drifting to the night before, the way the scent, feel, magic of Misty had encompassed her. The kiss, the godamn wonderful kiss that had her lips tingling </span> <em> <span class="s2">still</span> </em> <span class="s1">, longing for the touch again. It was obvious now, the feelings, the warmth she felt when their skin brushed together, the warmth she felt when Misty’s gaze was on her, like it was now. Watching as she pierced holes in the stems and looped another stem through it, fingers seamlessly joining them together like she’d been doing it for years. </span></p><p class="p2">There was something unspoken between them. Cordelia knew that there must’ve been some level of reciprocation from Misty. There was no denying that any longer. And still, she was hesitant. Hesitant to cross a line by vocalising it all. By facing whatever it was between them that’d pushed them towards getting married, no matter how drunk they were. Hesitant to even label it to herself.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When she finished looping together the daisies, she turned to Misty triumphantly. Rising to her knees, she silently leant over and brushed the blonde locks away from her forehead, earning a wide-eyed look, mouth agape as she watched Cordelia place the flower crown on her head. </span>
</p><p class="p2">Leaning back on her heels, she surveyed her masterpiece with a proud grin, “There. Perfect.”</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thanks, Delia,” Misty brushed a delicate finger over the daisies, cheeks turning visibly pinker. She looked up at her through her lashes with a bashful grin.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The eye contact didn’t end there, but became more intense. Misty was looking at her like she’d gifted her the Crown Jewels, entirely too pretty with the daisies resting on her head. She was beautiful; the sun when winter starts to ebb into spring, hopeful, a warmth breaking through the cold. She was the embodiment of spring itself, of blooming flowers and light and joy. All bottled up into her smile and dimples. Into those reaching eyes, currently moving back and forth between two areas of her face.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cordelia felt herself shifting slightly, beginning to lean forwards, watched Misty bite at her lip in anticipation. She could taste want on her tongue, the aching desire to take the Cajun’s face into her hands and kiss her like she needed the very air from her lungs. When she was inches away, Misty suddenly whipped her head towards the shack, excitement sparking in her eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We have to go inside. This song, Delia!” Cordelia inwardly cursed Stevie Nicks and her awful timing as Misty dragged her to her feet, but remembered what’d happened after their last encounter with the white witch and one of her slow songs. </span>
</p><p class="p2"><span class="s1">“Here, dance with me.” Placing an arm around Cordelia’s waist, Misty tugged her in close, earning an </span> <span class="s2"> <em>oomf</em> </span> <span class="s1"> from the Supreme as their fronts pressed together.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re quite fond of dancing, aren’t you?” She sniggered, trying to control the pace of her heart at their proximity.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">It was different this time. They weren’t pressed so tightly together that she couldn’t see her, but rather Cordelia’s arms were looped around Misty’s neck, hers about her waist. Instead of an intimate closeness that drew them together through skin and heat, there was an intimate eye contact. It was somehow worse than feeling Misty all over her. Somehow stronger, deeper, more </span> <span class="s2"><em>terrifying</em>.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <em><span class="s2">You know I’d rather be alone<br/></span>Than be without you</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Now she could feel Misty inside, touching her very soul, squeezing at her heart as the piano faded into the background, only the beat of her pulse heard through the haze that’d washed over her. Could feel her in her very bloodstream, coursing through her veins. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Every single thing she’d ever felt, thought, loved about Misty was reflected in her eyes; bottomless and opaque. She was sure of it. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They weren’t even dancing. Just standing, connected by the arms, interwoven through their eyes. Cordelia studied every little detail about them. The gradients of blue, specks of random colour like blemishes on the skin, deep, reaching pupils; larger than she’d ever seen them. Thick eyelashes brushing against her pink-tinted cheeks, the colour of spring flowers every time she blinked, creased eyelids veiling a brilliant ocean, a winding river. They held a serenity, an overwhelming state of peace and happiness, answers to questions Cordelia couldn’t name. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It didn’t feel like the preface of some significant event like the last time they were here. It felt like an inevitability. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was Misty who leant forwards first. Brushed their lips together in a tender kiss that had her heaving for breath the moment of contact. Air she could only chase in the curve of Misty’s mouth, pressed against her own. </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Tightening the arms about her neck, she felt </span> <span class="s1">Misty draw her in, pressing their bodies flush together. Cordelia could feel the soil beneath the floorboards, could sense the water and the green that surrounded them, becoming one with nature through Misty’s passionate mouth as she dared to swipe her tongue against a lip. </span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She felt her gasp, heard it as she parted her lips for Cordelia’s tongue, pressing back with her own in a meeting of currents. Two oceans merging. They were moving then, Misty urging her backwards with careless steps, almost stumbling across the shack before her legs hit the side of the bed and she was falling, Misty following.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">How it’d gotten so heated, so intense was beyond her, but all such thoughts went out of her brain as Misty hiked her dress up to straddle Cordelia‘s waist, pinning her down with a gentle palm. The light shrouded her like some sort of halo, curls falling like waterfalls around her head. She looked ethereal, chest heaving, lips parted, watching, two bare thighs either side of her. Cordelia might’ve come undone just from the visual stimulation alone.</span>
</p><p class="p2">The pressure of Misty’s hand on her chest, holding her down, was driving her absolutely mad. The Cajun must’ve noticed, perhaps through the erratic speed of her breaths, because she pressed harder, leaning over Cordelia so that their faces were close, breath dusting her cheek.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cordelia held back a gasp, stifling it by sealing her lips tight, hands curling around the duvet beneath her.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not so Supremely now,” Misty whispered against her jaw, lips dusting along it. Cordelia tilted her neck to allow better access. The boldness had her reeling as hot, open-mouthed kisses were placed along her throat. She could feel a heat building, a fire kindling in her lower stomach, setting the rest of her body aflame.“Cat got your tongue?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I believe you did,” She croaked out, allowing the witch to continue attacking her skin. Misty’s chuckle reverberated against her collarbone, a melody in itself whistled through the beaks of a thousand songbirds.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When she sat up again, taking the time to brush Cordelia’s hair out of her eyes, she gave a blinding smile. “You’re so beautiful, did you know that Cordelia?” </span>
</p><p class="p2">She was breathless all over again, saw the raw honesty shining through Misty’s eyes, felt it in the gentle caress of her fingers against her forehead.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So are you.” That wasn’t enough to describe the otherworldly beauty that was Misty Day. Wasn’t enough to capture everything about her. “You’re the most exquisite thing I’ve laid my eyes on. No, I knew you were exquisite before I laid my eyes on you. Your beauty is in your very soul, your movements, you-“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Misty cut her off with a searing kiss, teeth clashing with her own, swallowing Cordelia’s words as if she wanted to taste them, feel them on her tongue, as if hearing wasn’t enough.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How romantic.” There was a blush on her cheeks when they parted again, or perhaps that was from their flushed bodies. </span>
</p><p class="p2">In Misty’s distraction, chin tucked into her chest bashfully like she wasn’t holding her down on the bed and didn’t just have her tongue in Cordelia’s mouth, she dislodged the witch from her lap with the help of some levitation and flipped them around.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She saw the breath leave Misty’s lungs, heard the shock in a gasp, and smirked down at the Cajun, biting her lip at the surprise on her face.“What was that, about being supremely?”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Maybe I should question your supremacy more often,” She breathed out, hands taking purchase on Cordelia’s thighs. Pushing them higher until they met her hips, then lower again to rest over her ass, Misty welcomed her lips with a squeeze that had her holding back a moan. She didn’t think she’d experienced any moment </span> <em> <span class="s2">sexier</span> </em> <span class="s1"> than that (including</span> <span class="s1"> having sex with a ring of fire surrounding her, snakes crawling freely across the floor, because that was Hank, and this was </span> <em> <span class="s2">Misty</span></em><span class="s1">).</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I won’t,” She tugged at Misty’s lip with her teeth, “Always be,” Ran her tongue over the spot, “This forgiving.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, really?” Misty pulled at Cordelia’s hair lightly, arching her neck and dipping her face into the space. She hummed in both confirmation and pleasure as she felt suction against her pulse point, pushing her weight into the Cajun a little more to bring them closer. “Is that a challenge?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You tell me,” She whispered against her ear, teeth running over the lobe.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Misty snaked am arm around her waist and held on tightly as she pushed them up into a sitting position. Cordelia sucked in a breath as she looked at Misty, mostly level now, straddling the Cajun’s lap. The heat was simmering in her gut at the display of strength, at the assertive attitude that contrasted her usual gentle demeanour.</span>
</p><p class="p2">Cordelia had seen (or heard) it, this assertiveness, when she’d beaten up Madison,  in her stares and her flirty comments that went just over the boundaries of friendship, when she drank alcohol and allowed herself to relax her often hyperactive attitude, when she’d defended her or defended herself. It was as much Misty as the rest of her and it had Cordelia feeling like mush in the palm of her hands. Or more accurately, her lap.</p><p class="p2">The girl must’ve been able to tell (again - she was perceptive), could see the impact she was having on Cordelia, because she was grinning like her number had been drawn in a raffle.</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“You’re looking real hot and bothered, </span> <em> <span class="s2">Miss Cordelia</span></em><span class="s1">,” She teased, pecking her lips and drawing away like she was holding back just to fluster her.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m Mrs now,” She reminded, laughing into Misty’s shoulder at her raised eyebrows, their chests brushing together with the movement.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When she pulled back, she was met with an amused smile, delicate hands pressing into her back. “I guess my wish for extra privileges came true.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Was this your plan all along? Is that why you convinced me to share a bed with you for a week and brought me to your deserted shack?” Cordelia’s voice was breathy, hitching when Misty’s palms slid under her dress and up the expanse of her stomach.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I convinced you? It didn’t seem like ya needed much convincin’.” She cocked an eyebrow, an annoyingly attractive smirk on her face as she pinched at Cordelia’s side, earning a yelp.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She felt fingers brushing beneath the wire of her bra, wished they’d reach around and unclasp it. “You-“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I think there’s too much talkin’ happenin’ right now,” Misty interjected, hands moving to cup her breasts over fabric. Cordelia nodded, a sigh escaping through her sealed lips as the Cajun applied more pressure, returning her mouth to her neck.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It didn’t take long for two hands to be snaking around her back and unclasping it, delicate fingers pushing into her flesh, brushing over her nipples. Cordelia leant into the touch, shifting in Misty’s lap, searching for something. She pressed herself onto her thigh, fingers tugging at blonde curls and lips finding hers in an desperate rush. </span>
</p><p class="p2">No matter how hard she breathed there was never enough air in her lungs, so she sought for it in Misty’s skin, in her mouth and her hands; massaging, pinching and twisting. When they pulled away, running down to her thighs and further towards her knees, Cordelia opened her eyes to see a question in Misty’s, brows raised as she tugged at the hem of her dress.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She was nodding before she’d even really grasped what was being asked, watching Misty as she began pulling up her dress, slowly, pupils never leaving her own. There was nothing in them but intent, intent filled with desire and wonder.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Pulling her hips down with firm hands so she ground more into her thigh, shifting her leg so there was movement to add to the pressure, Misty marvelled as Cordelia let out a moan, nails digging into her shoulders. When her mouth latched onto a nipple, tongue flattening over it as she continued to press her thigh exactly where she needed it, Cordelia exhaled sharply, almost whimpering. “Fuck </span> <em> <span class="s2">me</span></em><span class="s1">.”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m gettin’ there,” Misty spoke into her boob, mouth hot and teeth grazing her nipple.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Jesus Christ,” She said through a breathy laugh, until Misty pushed her back onto the bed and settled between her legs, extinguishing any humour with the fire in her eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">With one rapid swoop Misty removed her own dress, letting it drop to the floor as she hovered over Cordelia; body, muscle, skin bared for her to see in only matching white, lacy underwear. The defined line of her biceps looked more prominent beneath the sun streaming through the slats of wood as she pulled Cordelia down the bed by her legs so she was directly above her. </span>
</p><p class="p2">Their lips met again, sloppy and rushed, erotic. The feel of Misty’s warm skin, her tongue - it had Cordelia’s head spinning like she’d drank twenty cans of rosé, when in reality she’d barely made it through the first one.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When a hand trailed to the waistband of her panties, tugging at them with a grin, Cordelia parted her legs wide, heartbeat elevating in anticipation. “Tell me how you like it,” She whispered against her throat, the feel and sound of it shooting straight to where her hand was headed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“</span>
  <em>
    <span class="s2">Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span class="s1">, Misty,” She groaned, looking up at the Cajun as her hair framed the both of their faces.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What do you want me to do?” She pressed, fingers tracing over her through the unnecessary layer of material. </span>
</p><p class="p2">She might’ve answered coherently if Misty hadn’t added pressure. “Ah, fuck, uh-“</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“How do you want me to </span> <em> <span class="s2">fuck you</span></em><span class="s1">, Cordelia?” She latched onto the sides of her underwear and tugged them down her legs almost roughly, Cordelia barely moving to help, too lost in the stimulation and the sound of Misty’s voice; deep and breathy with desire, saying words she’d never imagined ever being heard in that godly Louisiana accent.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Oh my </span> <em> <span class="s2">God</span></em><span class="s1">, fuck.” She looked up at the woman above her, settled between her legs, hands gripping the insides of her thighs to spread her - open and vulnerable and ready for Misty. </span> <em> <span class="s2">Misty Day</span> </em> <span class="s1"> was about to fuck her. How </span> <em> <span class="s2">surreal</span></em><span class="s1">. “Touch me. My clit.”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Misty nodded, a hum of appraisal passing through her lips as she leant down to flatten her tongue over Cordelia’s breast. She could feel a hand running up her inner thigh, brushing up over her pubic bone and resting on her abdomen. “</span>
  <em>
    <span class="s2">Misty.</span>
  </em>
  <span class="s1">”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m gettin’ there,” She said through a chuckle, teeth brushing against her skin. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“</span>
  <em>
    <span class="s2">Please.</span>
  </em>
  <span class="s1">”</span>
</p><p class="p2">She let out another breathless laugh at the whine in Cordelia’s voice, halting when fingers laced through her curls and tugged her head upwards, receiving a stern look that wasn’t particularly effective with the desperation swimming in her eyes.</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Who knew I’d have the Supreme beggin’ me to fuck her?” She bit her lip to hold back </span> <em> <span class="s2">another</span> </em> <span class="s1"> laugh, clearly finding this whole situation way more amusing than Cordelia, who could feel her legs beginning to shake, gut tightening with want. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d </span> <em> <span class="s2">wanted </span></em><span class="s1">somebody this bad.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Misty, I swear to God if you do- </span> <em> <span class="s2">fuck</span></em><span class="s1">,” Cordelia almost yelped as a thumb pressed against her clit, gentle and barely there, a brush of wind more than anything. A breeze.</span></p><p class="p2">With one last tug against her hair, Cordelia’s desperation clear in the whine she released when Misty retracted her thumb, she relented and swiped her fingers through her folds, teeth latching onto a nipple. The double stimulation had her back arching, her throat constricting as she released a loud moan. She could tell Misty’s fingers had to be coated, could feel how wet she was by how easily she slipped over her clit, creating a steady rhythm that had her writhing beneath her.</p><p class="p2">“God, you’re so wet for me, Delia.” It came out in breaths as she switched between each nipple, circling with her tongue, nipping at the flesh. “You’re so pretty like this. Spread out for me.”</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Who knew Misty Day was such a dirty talker? And who knew Cordelia would like it </span> <span class="s2">so</span> <span class="s1"> much she felt she could finish right there and then? The heavy accent was doing wonders for the wetness between her legs. Instead, she laced her fingers through Misty’s hair and voiced her approval through desperate sounds, moving her hips to get better access.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Tell me what you want me to do next,” Misty breathed against her skin, drawing Cordelia’s scrunched up eyes to her. The sight of the Cajun, wide blue eyes watching her as she dragged a tongue over her chest, hand moving rapidly between open legs, pressing against her in tight circles, had Cordelia gasping loudly, sucking in sharp breaths as if she were choking on air. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Your fingers. Inside.” Cordelia moaned as she responded quickly, dipping a finger into her entrance. “</span>
  <em>
    <span class="s2">Misty</span>
  </em>
  <span class="s1">.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Her pace picked up at the approval, a finger exploring her; pressing, rubbing, searching for something she sought in the stuttered moans from the woman beneath her. When they turned desperate again, she added another digit, arching her fingers as they moved until they brushed over that </span> <em> <span class="s2">spot</span></em><span class="s1">.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cordelia’s back arched at the touch, a guttural moan escaping through her lips as Misty repeated the movement, seeking her mouth for a languid kiss.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Inspiration seemed to strike Misty, because her pace slowed as she distanced herself from Cordelia’s body, previously pressed so tightly to her that she was covered in a thin layer of sweat from the stifling heat of the shack and the sunshine slanting through it. A whine escaped her throat, Misty only chuckling in response as she shifted even further away, fingers still moving slowly inside her.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What are you doing?” She croaked out, hips jerking against her hand to find friction, Misty’s palm brushing over her clit at the movement and eliciting another breathy moan.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“I bet you taste like summer and winter mixed into one.” Misty looked up at her through heavy-lidded eyes, teeth tugging on her lip. </span> <em> <span class="s2">So that’s why</span><span class="s1">.</span> </em></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cordelia didn’t know exactly what she meant, but the thought of Misty travelling down her body, talented tongue on her clit, had her groaning, bucking her hips. “Try for yourself.” </span>
</p><p class="p2">“I was countin’ on it.”</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cordelia whimpered as Misty’s fingers left her, feeling an emptiness so profound it had to be beyond sex.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It wasn’t long before she felt the Cajun’s tongue pressing against her, swiping and prodding, dipping into her entrance and spreading her wetness. She found herself searching for something to grasp and settled on the sheets beneath her, fearing tugging on Misty’s hair would halt her ministrations.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“There’s hints of spring too,” She murmured against her, the vibrations from her lips sending a jolt through Cordelia’s body. </span>
</p><p class="p2">She could feel her orgasm simmering beneath her skin, just out of reach. The fingers gripping at her thighs began to make their way towards her, painfully slow, until they were filling her up again, arching into her walls in just the right way. She felt overwhelmed. The deep desire in Misty’s eyes as their gazes met, the adoration she felt as the fingers not moving inside of her caressed the skin of her hip, the pleasure coursing through her veins; Cordelia thought she could explode. She was almost afraid she’d set the shack on fire, or blow misty halfway across the room, but the Cajun’s soft grip on her hip was grounding enough, and she sought for the feel of the magic between them, surrounding them like a bubble.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">With the feel of Misty’s magic consuming her, the grip on her hip that’d turned a little harsh, the tongue working seamlessly over her clit and the fingers curling into her, Cordelia allowed herself to reach the edge, only toppling over when Misty’s eyes held hers, a quiet, “Come for me, Delia,” brushing against her most sensitive spot. </span>
</p><p class="p2">Her back arched off the bed as the orgasm took over her, legs shaking as she cried out, eyes losing Misty’s as they squeezed shut and her head snapped back against the mattress. She felt like her soul was bared and open, entirely at Misty’s disposal, vulnerable. Tears pricked at her eyes as she heaved sharp breaths, Misty’s tongue relenting and fingers slowing.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It must’ve been a few moments before she opened her eyes again, glancing down at Misty with blurred sight. She was kissing at her thighs, palms spread out over her stomach as she brushed her hands over the skin there. Cordelia lifted her weighted arms to tug at a lock of hair, urging Misty upwards so that she was pressed to her side, chin in the palm of her hand as she watched Cordelia. </span>
</p><p class="p2">It took a while for her to regain clarity, movements languid as she rolled over towards Misty, trailing a finger down her chest. She felt a thumb brush beneath her eye, then the resultant wetness that spread across her cheek with the movement.</p><p class="p2">“I’m sorry.” She looked away from the depth in Misty’s searching eyes, landing on the strap of her bra. Her hand found it, tugging at the elastic absentmindedly as an arm reached around her waist to pull her closer.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What for, Delia?” Misty’s voice was the softest she’d ever heard it, a whisper full of unspoken words and confessions. Feelings.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“For crying.” </span>
</p><p class="p2">“There’s nothing to apologise for,” She insisted, cupping Cordelia’s cheek with her hand and tapping until she met her eyes again. “Are you okay?”</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Never been better.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There were a thousand things she wanted to say. How she’d never felt so cared for, never allowed herself to become this vulnerable with somebody, especially in sex. How the look in Misty’s eyes was doing something to her heart, something ineffable. Instead, she pushed at the Cajun’s shoulders and moved onto shaky knees, spreading them either side of the girls hips.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Her body responded quickly to Cordelia’s touch, already sensitive from bringing her to an orgasm. She allowed herself to savour the taste of her skin, the feel of her pliant chest against her mouth once she’d removed her wireless bra, hardened nipples and the fuzz on her stomach. She took in the little noises escaping from Misty’s lips as her fingers traced over her underwear and placed them in a little box in her brain to be stored forever. The realisation that this was fleeting, this was only a moment, nagged at the back of her brain, so she drowned it out by slowly pulling down Misty’s panties, feeling her way back up her legs, and settling her hand between the apex of her thighs.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She fucked Misty with everything she had in her. ‘Making love’ was a bitter thought, it felt stale, out of place without verbal confirmation, but that’s exactly what this was. This wasn’t merely physical pleasure for either of them. She could see that, hear it in Misty’s stuttered breaths, feel it in her soul, in their magic.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She pressed their naked bodies together, searching for that closeness as her fingers worked inside of her, thumb pressing against her bundle of nerves methodically. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Her lips mapped a path down her neck, across her collarbone, till she reached her chest once again, latching onto a nipple. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When Misty quietly stuttered out pleas for more, Cordelia added a third finger, adjusting the angle so she could continue to curl into the spot that had Misty calling out her name, loud enough to rouse the gators and spread ripples across the swamp. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She came to the sound of Cordelia telling her how good she felt around her fingers, body turning rigid as her pleasure reached its peak, gasping against Cordelia’s lips as she pressed their mouths together for a halfhearted kiss, mostly tongues and teeth. </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Letting out a whine when Cordelia removed her fingers and brushed over her clit, she blinked blearily at her, pressing forwards so that their lips met again in a kiss that held a tenderness that echoed the thoughts of </span> <em> <span class="s2">making love</span></em><span class="s1">. Their breaths only began to calm when the Supreme settled at her side, hands clasped together. </span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They didn’t talk for a good while, Cordelia’s head resting against Misty’s bare chest, legs intertwined as a hand brushed over her back in a steady rhythm. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The heat was stifling, made worse by their proximity, but Cordelia couldn’t imagine ever detaching herself from Misty’s side. It seemed absurd. Like making s’mores without marshmallows (or any other animal friendly alternative). Like removing a perfectly healthy lung. </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Her eyes felt heavy, perhaps from the physical strain, or the emotional. </span> <em> <span class="s2">She’d just cried during sex</span></em><span class="s1">. Or, well, afterwards. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d done that, before. But she also couldn’t remember a time when she’d felt so utterly connected to someone, like they could read every inch of her soul, like there was an incision right where her heart was and Misty was holding the scalpel, holding the power to do whatever she liked. A God who could decide what happened to her. The ultimate decision maker. </span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It felt like she was choosing to heal that wound. Whether it was with Louisiana mud or the magic at her very core, spreading out and consuming Cordelia in it’s light, a cloud, soft and fresh and tinted by the sun. </span>
</p><p class="p2">She felt healed. Like every dark part of her past was being shadowed by Misty’s light.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She felt something deeper. Something tugging at her chest, raging and incessant, deafening and blinding. Something ineffable, tranquil, and utterly terrifying.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Can we stay here tonight?” Cordelia whispered against Misty’s neck, afraid to break the serene quiet. She didn’t want to head back to society, because then the reality of their situation would be evident in the walls of the academy to the sneers of Madison.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Of course,” Misty answered, fingers finding her hair and carding through it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They didn’t talk about what it meant or what it didn’t mean. They just breathed each other in like they were both afraid the other wouldn’t be there when morning came. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Fun fact: the line about winter ebbing into spring was the first sentence I wrote for this. I actually wrote it for another idea but then brought it over to this one. let me know what you thought (I’m not much of a smut writer so).</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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